“Basket” by Crystal Salas

0 Comments 27 April 2015

In observance of National Poetry Month, Yay! LA Magazine will be publishing an eclectic mix of works from a wide range of authors all through April. For consideration, submit your poetry with a bio and any preferred links and images to our Literary Editor Jessica Ceballos at


by Crystal Salas


“You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes look like scrambled eggs.”

Frank O’Hara made the premonition, and it probably doesn’t apply to us because you’ve never said that to me about my eyes. It definitely doesn’t because a lot of other things have been named, about my eyes, but also regarding what I see through them.

But we have spent a lot of time speaking of eggs. You told me you cried in Poland because no one in all of the country would cook over-easy eggs for you because it was a health hazard. I laughed and said I cared about your predicament, deeply. You said of course I do, I’m a woman and of course I care about eggs. (Supported by an anatomy lesson.) I laughed because you’re stupid. I have the tendency to say something is stupid when I like it too much for myself. In this case, you say a lot of pretty and stupid things.

You care about eggs, too. You keep them in crate –fuls on your kitchen table but you live alone.

I don’t have a preference for my breakfast eggs. I enjoy things about all the possibilities. Scrambled, the way my Ita makes them. Over easy because I like to play with my food. Poached because Eggs Benedict is NOT a joke to me.

I went to Tijuana last month with my Grandfather. We went to Applebee’s for breakfast because I think he has trust issues with the food of his people. I think I do too, but I wasn’t hungry anyway because we were at Applebee’s. He ordered a dish I had never heard of before called “huevos divorciados” which translates directly to “divorced eggs”: one sunny side up yolk sitting in a pool of green salsa, next to it a yolk sitting in a pool of red salsa, both yolks still intact. Apart. The primary colors never mix unless provoked with a fork. And then the yellow is punctured, running all over the plate causing chaos catalyzing the taste of depth but then they didn’t need to burst for that to happen did they? Their islands just needed to intersect to know, what was inside of them, was the same.


Cody Naganuma art

“HOMOWNERS II,” Cody Naganuma

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- who has written 1 posts on Yay! LA | Arts & Culture Magazine.

Crystal Salas is a spoken word poet, a sentimental little bird, a hybrid form. She received her B.A. in Literature from the University of California, Santa Cruz in 2012. Her work has appeared in The Acentos Review (online), The Moorpark Review, Chinquapin (print), as well as in her first chapbook, The Body Memoir, which she sewed together herself. Sometimes, she can be found in a black box theater playing around and borrowing from the future with her family at the True Focus Theater Company, where her work also appears. She is the co-founder of Atomic Tangerine Press, which curates “Poetry Solves Problems”, a bi-monthly literary variety show/community based in Los Angeles. Currently, she lives in Los Angeles where she teaches high school English. She writes to be the clarity under your pillow, the mantra in your back pocket. Most of all, she writes for mobility. Tell your truths and they won’t keep you.

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