The rising price of eggs
by Sarah Gamard
I am running
out of eggs I am
nothing without my eggs
how will I afford even one
egg? I track them all,
the rising prices
I am already
twenty-nine
and a half, crow’s
feet are coming
the prices
all my doctor
cares about
answering her little
questions, I remember
I am
not my father’s boyish girl
not my girlfriend’s dark lover
not a writer
not me
just a sacred
sack of precious eggs
Sarah Gamard studied creative writing at the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. She spent several years as a journalist covering government and politics for several news outlets in Louisiana, Maryland, Delaware and D.C. She lives in between New Orleans and Philadelphia.