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Shrug of Broken Egg, Frozen Shell
- University of South Carolina Press
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5 Shrug of Broken Egg, Frozen Shell She has a hard time with libraries.The giving back, she said. On aTuesday night bits of things leftover went underwater when she made ice cubes with roadside peanut shells, dried sand crabs, stones she picked up somewhere, rind of lemon, orange, apple skin.And after they all turned to ice, she hung them from porch banister and patio chair with string. To hear the sounds they made dropping: thud of thawed lemon, tinker of her last apartment key, all the sudden letting go. Chicken bone barely there, a wet match left beside the sink. It’s raining on her porch, giving the night a creek to listen for, a boat to fill up. She puts a plastic Buddha in a jar with buttons and yarn.Tops the glass with water, waits for him to freeze.A backwards baking moves her about the kitchen with bean snaps in a water vase, and when the freezer gets too full and one not-yet-frozen breaks with fluted wine glass on the tile, she is only disappointed for sound come too early. Strange ceremony—waiting for sound to hit the floor. ...