The Break

I’m standing over the stainless steel sink

so the crumbs don’t ruin the rug I just swept.

The fork makes a sound that makes my skin shrink,

a secret the porcelain shouldn't have kept.

A jagged, gray notch where the glaze didn't hold

catches the yolk in a sticky, bright smear.

It sends a sharp shiver, electric and cold,

up through my wrist to the back of my ear.