Kitchen haiku

tender meat ruined,
steamed instead of fried –
cook’s profuse apologies
my egg peeled of dignity
piece by shattered piece,
hardboiled, life scooped out
leftovers of hearts
nourish the god of rupture
in a sunset shrine
on a window ledge,
celery and carrot tops
send out their new roots
the stale bread hardens,
we cannot even cut it –
it must be thrown out
empty pores of skin –
the years have sucked out their hope,
leaving dry decay
to make your fortune in fish,
rise when dawn is cast
and sharpen your knife
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