If, when he looked, a prophet saw
inside the egg's imperfect O
a bantam little shadow—death
already curled in the heart of the embryo—

it would be too small a flaw
to brood on, if he heard as well,
clearer than light, a brilliant crowing
shatter the brittle confines of the shell.











From Poetry Magazine, Vol. 187, no. 5, February 2006. Used with permission.