I
Marianne said
pointing to the moon
“The sun doesn’t smile brightly”
“grimacing” “depressed”
rolled up curtains
mother’s gaze looking down
at her daughter beckoning
in front of a window with
16 small windows
the footprints of the night
were drawing a map of love
she walks over it.

II
Morning, early morning, hungry morning
putting cheap bread in the toaster
going back and forth forgot
as the house filled with
smoke and smell the bell rang
opened the windows, ventilated
I sat down on the dining table chair
my eyes caught the machine
burnt bread
let’s pressed the button
was broken bread popping out
Shouted, “It is love.”

III
Two eggs were removed
from the refrigerator
and dropped into
a heated frying pan
even though, already dead,
writhed with heat
I was startled
when that voice popped up
reached my arm skin
they become one to make a heart
and I ate fried egg
with a glass of grape juice.