From Ducks, Newburyport. Published by Biblioasis in 2019.

…the fact that I found a wood pigeon’s egg outside on the porch steps, short, tall, grande, venti, trenta, and wondered if I should try to incubate it in my bra, like Arabella in Jude the Obscure, but when I mentioned it to Leo he ordered me to put it back where I’d found it, in case I was coming between a mother wood pigeon and her egg, the fact that sometimes he lectures me like I’m one of his students, the fact that he made me feel so guilty about interfering with nature I did put the egg back on the porch as I’d found it, the fact that then, in the middle of the night, I started feeling guilty about that poor little egg left to languish out there and die of cold on the bare wood planks of the porch, the fact that by then I’d invested in the egg, I guess, or internalized it or something, the fact that its plight had impacted on me, the fact that I was attached to it anyway, and felt responsible, the fact that “responsible” is a funny word, the fact that so I got up in the middle of the night and put my coat on over my PJs and went out and retrieved the wood pigeon egg, the fact that this time I had a better idea, idear, and unlocked the coop so I could push the little egg under one of the chickens, the fact that I should have done that in the first place, though I was a little scared they might crush it, or reject it, and they may yet, the fact that it’s not as small as a wren’s egg but it’s still pretty small, closer to a quail’s egg, the fact that eggs are fascinating because they’re so perfect, and mysterious, except when they go haywire because of some nutritional deficiency, or get old and weird, rotten egg smell, membranes, mucus, slime, slimes, tailings, viscous, viscosity, dry cleaning, the fact that I didn’t really want to let that egg out of my sight, but it’s probably in the best place it could be, the fact that I shouldn’t worry really, the fact that the chickens’ll usually sit on anything that even looks like an egg, like Jake’s silly putty, that Milly dutifully incubated until it got all sort of melted and greasy and we had to put it in the fridge, before he could play with it again, the fact that Mommy called out “Ducky! Ducky!” to the ducks, and charged into the pond, but Abby saved her, the fact that Stacy jumped into the King’s Ransome pool once without her water wings, and Abby almost had to save her too, the fact that Stacy and I were changing in the motel room, and she just ran out and jumped in the pool before I knew what was happening, the fact that she’d forgotten to put on her floaties, and sank much deeper than she expected, but she was fine, and managed to swim out by herself, no harm done, touch wood, count your blessings, rabbits’ feet, the fact that she was already a pretty good swimmer luckily, but she still liked to wear her water wings, the fact that lots of children drown by slipping out of their water wings, and the parents don’t notice, the fact that the parents think the kid’s fine because they’re wearing water wings, but they’re not, the fact that Abby was no swimmer really, the fact that she just liked doing her arthritis exercises in the pool, or sitting in the hot tub, the fact that Stacy must have thought it was safe enough because Abby was already in the pool, but it wasn’t really, the fact that Stacy had to save herself, and she was only about four, the fact that puddle-jumpers are better, better than water wings, because they don’t come off, the fact that they wrap around the whole chest, inner tube problems, chickens, wood pigeon egg, the fact that Leo and Sally’s iguana laid a whole pile of eggs in their bathtub in Arizona, the fact that they were infertile though, the fact that they couldn’t have been fertilized because she was the only iguana for miles around, the fact that even if a male iguana had swum fifty miles, and hiked up the mountain, he still couldn’t have found his way into that condo, the fact that the vet told Leo it’s perfectly normal for an iguana to lay a great big pile of eggs like that, and you can eat them, the fact that the vet thought iguana eggs make good omelets, the fact that you can make an omelet for four out of a single ostrich egg too, but who wants to, the fact that Leo and Sally didn’t feel like eating their pet iguana’s eggs, the fact that that was not why they had her, the fact that Leo has no idea why they had her, the fact that Sally brought the iguana, the fact that her eggs probably weren’t in top-notch condition anyway, the iguana’s, not Sally’s, after they’d been sitting in that 80° bathroom for a week, the fact that they were in the mountains of Arizona, in winter, snowed-in car, bears, trash, Native American reservations, and they were trying to keep her warm and damp, the iguana, not Sally, the fact that they kept the bathroom at tropical temperatures, and the iguana somehow got the idea of laying eggs in the bathtub, the fact that I always wonder how Leo and Sally ever took a bath if the tub was full of eggs, the fact that, also, the iguana was always ready to pounce on you, apparently, and they have sharp claws, the fact that Leo says he was pretty scared of her, the iguana, not Sally, but maybe both, the fact that they both sound pretty bad, the fact that Leo was always having to get out of bed at 4:30 in the morning to clear snow off Sally’s car so she could get to her teaching job on the Indian reservation, London Bridge, Mommy, tunnels, craters, funnel cake, the fact that Arizona’s no place for an iguana, the fact that the iguana would have been a lot happier in Mexico, and Leo would have been happier in Ohio, with me, not hanging out with that cold Sally in Arizona, I ♥ U, the fact that “cold Sally” sounds like some kind of Confederate cocktail, like a mint julep, maybe bourbon on the rocks with a sprig of pine, a pickled iguana egg, and a dash of Ajax, topped with a stick of dynamite