Replying to a comment on:

Slowing - or, A Love Poem with Eggs and Short Lines (Lyric) by zodiac

My love, she has astonishing ways of slowing, when the eggs are done and I'm bug-spas- ming in my skin - and who ever was who liked cold eggs? My love, she tips the change-dish off the curio, when she'd rather stay in she frets, she doffs her dress again or finds my lips not fast enough. She says, don't think me a fool for this; I know exactly what time it is.

Dovina 31-May-05/9:16 AM
I'm taking it as a late-period activity where Verse 2 either conflicts with the ending or there is a change of heart. I go with the latter.




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