Response to a Fine Poem of Kelly’s

Eggs aren’t meant to be eaten.
Meaning’s not part of an egg.

Eggs are accidents that last
Often enough to grow up

Into accidents that eat
Other accidents. We aren’t

Meaning accidents are mean
Or even unkind. Unkind

Would be to declare the egg
Designed by your gods for you

And your prioritized kind
To find sustenance. That means

You are greater than the egg,
Which, we’d guess, you know you’re not.

We’re not saying that you’re less.
But everything’s accidents

Racing each other downhill
To the future, gravity.

The greatest experiments
In all history were those

Disproving Aristotle
By dropping different masses

From high places and showing
They would fall at the same rate.

Gravity loves you no more
Nor less than it loves an egg.