middle of the road

Step across your side

and meet me in the fallow;

come with the innocence

of a freshly laid egg.

Do not mind the cracks

and crevasses; if your foot

lands on one, it will not break

your mother’s back.

Quick, before the thin edge

of the wedge becomes deep;

prime the seed, like a pump,

with a feathered whisper.

Be brilliant, talk yourself into it;

wipe the yolk from your face

and move to the soft center,

flip your sunny side up.

Tess Kincaid

January, 2011

Would you like me to read it to you?