dying eggs

Posted: May 1, 2009 in Uncategorized

chemical dyes stain my fingertips
with the recklessness of mad scientists
at frenzied work deep in a laboratory, and
I breath deep the smell of bitter vinegar as
the orbs are dipped quietly into vats of colors
that barely change the original white,
a pointless task that we take with a
grain of salt in our labors, our heads slipping as
we realize how little we care,
our feet rumbling restlessly under
Formica tables, our fingers stained deep
with carelessness.

  1. carole cromwell paddock says:

    needs editing

    I thought it said grim of salt hummmm kinda like that. XXM

  2. thedude says:

    I liked your mad scientist metaphor, but I felt that the transition between the egg scene and the larger metaphor was a bit rough. You have a good pacing here and your final line was very well done.

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