[DÀN] DAY / MORNING / DAYBREAK / DAY SPRINGThe fifth word for dawn sounds like a fat eggeasily swayed off the counter / the kind that’s all bellywhen it stretches awake / My whole childhoodI had listened for it / that first crackling of the daylike a splintered door / and I’d sink in the blanketsas sun-yolk spilled out / not knowing the daywill break you / you never meaning to breakSplit open / it is written as fried egg sun                                   over hot pan horizonWhen we thought we were pregnantand I began sculpting a placenta / no one explainedthe placenta is a distracted thing / lets cells slip throughbut here I am / carrying bits of our future lostwhile we sweep up the shavings and wax / Always somethingto say goodbye to                                     旦 I carve and there / grapefruit cloudsare sprouting / I start thinking about what shoes to wearhow to keep the egg from rolling off / if the daywill be a hard one or soft / There is an inventioncaught in my ribs / too much historyto call it accident / too small to be intentionalHow do we speak of things madebut not named / I carve againand somewhere in the mess of split yolks and claywill be the markings of what those days did to us