small god  

all year round,
i find plastic easter eggs 
hidden everywhere.
on windowsills, on grocery store shelves,
in the crook of dogwood tree branches,
and i think i'm the only one
the sees them.
at first 
i purposefully ignored the eggs,
assuming they were intended 
for some else.
even in my home 
i told myself 
there must be a child here
i don't know about.
or these must be a gift
a different tenant left here
for another 
not me though.  
recently though something
has changed in me.
it wasn't subtle,
it was hungry & anxious.
walking home from the train
i saw a pastel pink one
in the street & swiped it up.
i already needed more.
feeling the capsules all over,
they were staring 
blank eyes.
i shook the egg to try 
to guess what it was hiding
with each shake
the rustling would be different.
once like a rattle snake tail
then a bell
then a handful of sand.
i did not open it,
just needed more of them.
got shopping bags & swept the house,
filling bag after bag
then out into the town
street by street.
green egg blue egg yellow egg.
i got strange looks & tried
to show off the eggs but other people
just saw that emptiness.
they shook their heads, confused
at my bags of air.
i reassured myself they must 
just have their own eggs.
i got this vision of the whole world
as a scheme of overlapping 
piles of eggs.
each day we're just 
trudging through them, kicking 
other people's plastic eggs 
around without knowing it.
i made a nest for the eggs
from pillows & i laid down
on top of them.
no i don't think they'll hatch
into birds but i think
they might hatch into something.
or maybe they'll hatch into nothing
erase themselves
to re-hide. i keep them warm
so they know it's okay to 
have nothing to give.
i don't open them myself
because i want to be patient.
i want to  be a good 
kind person. 
i do let myself clutch 
them in my hands
one egg at a time.
i swear i feel a small god
in there. maybe he hides
the eggs. maybe he is the eggs.
maybe he's hatching.
i keep collecting the eggs
shaking them every once in awhile
to check on the possibility
there might be something.