Not enough eggs in the world to keep that woman going.
She eats two in the morning and yolk turns mouth milky.
Her fledgling neck strains as she waits for the sun
to feed her more but it will not acquiesce.
What damage done when she nests behind paned glass
her heartbeat tangled
in sheets and down comforter.
All of her refuses to take flight.
She phone calls to the outside in hopes that the sun
will answer and pour knowledge into her
with tales of migration patterns and orphans
adopted by eggless mothers, but sun only replies
every other Monday between errands at the laundromat,
the dollar store, and the farmer’s market so she leaves
a desperate message – “may I join the murmuration today?
I’ll fly so well with the others, we will share two wings
and mesmerize all the lonely ones below who breathe
separate breaths.”