The egg that laid the golden goose
Is scrutinized by all who set eyes
On the familiar shell; outside
Seemingly nothing to be told—
Hardly a reason to end observation
And digging and tipping all the life out
Spreading across the floor
Intro drains and cracks and all sorts of places—
Promise unkept for the goose within
Born before its time; prodded as it rolls
Across the floor before life seeps out—
Blood coats the hands of those who took action—
Gather the yolk of the goose once living
Sifting through dirt for every last part
Waiting and groaning for their sacrificed food—
Quite a good meal, if you stomach the taste.