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.

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Comments
  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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