egg timer

i number my heavens, one through
one-thousand. wait for my time out
in a corner of the yellowest place.
sometimes i warn people
about my dog. i say,
"he is always hungry."
i do not have a dog 
or do i? on the telephone there's
a man who is asking for 
the time. i twist the timer
& say, "we only have three minutes left."
a countdown is a way of life.
what is coming is not a butter sculpture 
or even a delicious loaf of banana bread.
we pull over to change drivers.
i put my head out the car window
on a balloon leash. when the egg goes off
there is always another. 
on the counter, a carton rests
full of different destinations.
one will only ring if
you can get everyone in your family
to smile. i don't know how to tell you
that i'm not just a soup spoon
for you to curl up inside. 
my family is preoccupied 
with then only circus of deaths. 
ask me what i want 
when the time is up. ask me
what i'm planning to eat tonight.
i have to choose between my left 
& right hand. cut one off.
watch it lay like a dead bird.
there are chickens whose only task
is to make more time. 
they rush & so it's always messy.
i twist the little egg again.
give me give five more minutes 
in the sky before
i have to come down 
& wash our plates in the sink.