Giles Watson's poetry and prose
A Curate's Egg
A Curate’s Egg
Three genteel taps with a spoon, and the shell
is decapitated, smeared with a slick of albumen.
I could insist on politeness, hold back my gorge,
mop up the noisome yolk with a slice of toast,
chew and swallow as I catch my breath, wash
it down with tea – but there is the rest of it
to consider. It will take four mouthfuls
at least. Strung out from within it, the twisted
rope of chalaza will dangle from my spoon,
and a clot of yellow will gloop its way down
the handle. Perseverance is a virtue. I weigh
it up against honesty, look greenly at the plate.
This breakfast is a parable: good in parts,
like life, like health, like love, like human hearts.
Poem by Giles Watson, 2013.
www.weeklystorybook.com/.a/6a0105369e6edf970b014e5f56efeb...
A Curate's Egg
A Curate’s Egg
Three genteel taps with a spoon, and the shell
is decapitated, smeared with a slick of albumen.
I could insist on politeness, hold back my gorge,
mop up the noisome yolk with a slice of toast,
chew and swallow as I catch my breath, wash
it down with tea – but there is the rest of it
to consider. It will take four mouthfuls
at least. Strung out from within it, the twisted
rope of chalaza will dangle from my spoon,
and a clot of yellow will gloop its way down
the handle. Perseverance is a virtue. I weigh
it up against honesty, look greenly at the plate.
This breakfast is a parable: good in parts,
like life, like health, like love, like human hearts.
Poem by Giles Watson, 2013.
www.weeklystorybook.com/.a/6a0105369e6edf970b014e5f56efeb...