Black Eggs From the Sky

Black Eggs from the Sky
by Kevin James Miller

May 5, 1786, Port-au-Prince, Haiti, the first half
Of the year dry, dry, dry in that island nation and then
A howling, blowing, blustery east wind drops hordes of Black eggs from the sky,
and some of the Haitians

Scooped up some of the eggs, with gentle hands
And set the eggs in buckets and cups and dishes
Filled with water, and the next day, oh the next day
Whatever hatched from those eggs were sort of kind of

In a way you might say tadpoles, but not exactly
And shed one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight
And more layers of skin
Brothers and sister, what if that is it?

What if we don’t get North Korean missiles
Plummeting out of the falling Anchorage snow?
What if we don’t get the great flying saucers
One happy morning with the engraved invitations

To join the Galactic Brotherhood?
And what if we don’t get God, Christ, the angels
And the Four Horsemen ready to crush the sinners
And rapture-ize the rest?

What if we just get the black eggs from the sky
If some of us have hands and minds gentle enough to
Rest the eggs in buckets and cups and dishes
Filled with water?

Here comes the test
I don’t think all of us are going to pass

Bio

Kevin James Miller is a college English teacher who lives and works in the suburbs of Chicago. Over 100 of his stories, poems, essays, reviews, and plays have been published, performed, and recorded. He writes primarily in the crime, fantasy, horror, and science fiction genres. His first anthology, The Crazy Colored Sky and Other Tales, is coming later this year from Silver Lake Publishing. Visit him at http://webspawner.com/users/kjmiller and contact him at kevinjamesmiller2001@yahoo.com.