Tuesday, April 15, 2014

S'gonna be Easter



Ain’t here yet, but
S’gonna be Easter,
That season of vinegar,
Of Paas egg kits



Now full of things like
Glitter glue and beads and
Twirly tops, whatever they are and
Foil things and
Punchout things



But when Ah was liddle it was jest aiggs
Jes’ hardboiled aigs on the kitchen tay-ble
With my brother in his worst shirt
And me in one of his worst shirts
Because I always dressed like him anyway
My mother wouldn’t spend the money
And didn’t notice



Ya dip the aig in, see, like
This sort of, and it comes out
All bright and sparkly and
Half this color and half that color and



Vinegar water with color in goes all over the table.
The thing with the most dyee of all is
Your fingertips, which are kinda like rainbows
Some so dy-eed they’re black.


No one wants to eat these aiggs, so fiddled and dipped and dried
Except Grandpa, who has one for breakfast
But everyone cried because he had to break the shell
And the smell of sulphur was really something awful.


Aigs, aigs, these are Easter egges,
Representing the tomb of Christ, the stone rolled away
The Resurrection of hatching
A chicken into a chick
And dipped fingers
And childhood returned, and returned, and returned


Once again.

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