Out of this hardened block of sugar,
I carve you a sugar egg.
I detail curls of frosting: green leaves, red ants, blue bats, white whales, black ink, brown dots.
I leave them to cluster and dry in the aphasiac insides and I paper you another egg.
I paint one eye, leave a circle for the second, leave an open mouth, whiskered, shellack it bright red, and scent it, voluble.
It attends to the space, the gaps, and gathers the past.