The Beat of the Eggs

This is a poem I wrote sophomore year in a creative writing class I took with the same super awesome English teacher as the AP  English classes I took in my last two years of high school.  We're buds. Anyway, the assignment was to pace the poem with it's context.  Hopefully, you'll get that just from reading it.  This poem was graded as "a super-duper A" and is still one of the creative writing works I am most proud of.

Cold

Fridge door

Cold

Awkward sphere

Carefully,

Carefully,

Tapping it on the counter.

Impatience

Banging it on the counter with a force that could have smashed it to pieces

Tugging to get two separate halves

No shell bits yet

Separate the sun from it's watery horizon

Dripping, 

Slowly,

Oozing,

Shifting the yoke from shell to shell

Then,

Waiting,

Waiting for the drip,

Find the mixer

Feel the power in your hand

A momentary thought of it's true potential

Rushed through my head

Plug it in

Set to four speed

Patience,

Patience.

Rotating the blue bowl,

Cautiously moving the mixer to get all the whites,

As the mixer beats

Whips

Whirls

Fluffs the whites into a cloud