Each blueberry broke its thin shell
and bled, turning the whole pancake sick.
I tossed it, tried again, facing the window
With an egg-blue frame that revealed
The sea silently breaking and the boys
Tossing a navy object, squirming in the air like a fish.
I called them boys though we were the same
age. In the private sphere I was a woman;
In public, a girl. Meaning I was
Both trusted and instructed to make breakfast.
I held the bowl with both hands
And poured the dough into the pan.
Blue floor, blue fan, blue air around the blue
Walls with the blue lesion showing
The blue sea and sky—the entire room
Covered in expectations for me
Like the light of radiation whose hue
Eclipses everything, even its own name.