Dogs' Eggs (Wrapped in Plastic)

A poem from the collection:

"The Spaces We Inhabit" by Colin Read / Reade Collins.

Available in paper back or ePub

She always knew
What came first –
The chicken or the egg?
Of course –
It was the hen.
After all
It was the hen
She had first seen
Squeezing an egg
Out of its butt
Which led to her earliest
Cross-nomenclature
When, soon after,
She witnesses a dog
Performing
A very similar feat.
“Dogs’ eggs!” She had exclaimed

Unlike hens’ eggs
These were usually
Longer
And browner
And softer
And often found
Discarded on footpaths,
Nature strips,
And front lawns.
No brooding here
Abandoned
To slowly disintegrate
Slough off in the rain
Or harden in the sun
To a dusty, chalky, white

And so it was that
Over the years of
Crap encrusted heels
And shit shod soles
It became socially
Decreed de rigueur
That all pooch and pup
Pedestrians should be:

• Restricted by leash;
• Chaperoned by human;
• Pursued by plastic bag
• To be used for the sole
• Purpose of:
  i. Scooping up:
  ii. Confining, and;
  iii. Disposing of
        Any miscreant
        Sole shit shodding,
        Heel crap encrusting
        Dogs’ eggs

In time
She came to fear
The visions
That would suddenly invade
Her thoughts –
The seemingly inevitable
Chomolunginas,
Chhongoris, and
Kangchenjungas –
A complete orogenic belt
Of polyethylene encased dogs’ eggs,
Of turds in plastic,
A formidable
Mountain climbing legacy
For her children
And her children’s children.

In retrospect
Maybe their original
Un-intervened
Innate
Ability to
Decompose and compost
Into the humus of
This world’s
Repurposing decay
May well have been
The better option
And worth
A few soiled soles.