by Bethany F. Brengan
One. Let patience have her perfect work: turn the stove
down, just below medium, lower if your zeal runs hot. Two.
If you crack each egg first into a separate cup, you can divide
the clean from the unclean instead of risking the whole
clutch. Three. For the best texture, pour a little cream
or unflavored half-and-half into your eggs. About one
teaspoon per egg. Unite them with the bond of peace
and a fork. Four. When water droplets separate and sing
in the hot pan, add your oil. (Blessed are the non-lactose-
intolerant, for they can use butter. Let it melt but not brown.)
Five. Add your eggs. Six. Briefly, stir up their spirits
with a spatula. Then let them rest.
Seven. Do not look to the right or to the left. Keeping your
eyes on the eggs the whole time, pray for the morning and
the news you haven’t read yet. Give thanks for the hands
that gathered and the beaks that pecked them.
Pray for the people you have imagined scrambling
with violent justice, in the manner of fools and mediocre
cooks. When the whites are no longer clear, but there is still
liquid in the pan: add some salt, some light, some pepper,
and cheese (if desired). Eight. Turn off the heat.
Softly, like a bruised reed you are trying not to break,
give a couple final stirs, unifying everyone. Nine. Do not
let the pan become a dry and weary land. Ten.
Let us be gold. Sprinkle us with grace.
Let us taste and see goodness again.
photo credit: Olympia Davies, Unsplash
Bethany F. Brengan is a freelance writer and editor with a contradictory love of both cats and birds. She grew up in Kentucky and now lives in the PNW. She writes about books, comics, disability, and writing. She also writes a lot of poetry. Her work has appeared in Ninth Letter, Talk Vomit, and Bellevue Literary Review. She can be found athttps://medium.com/@bethanybrengan.