Chicken

Silence gives birth to silence
One shadow under God indivisible
With many mouths, and no one speaking
Many tongues twisted and curled
The cosmic egg is delivered, cracked
Someone hears the tree falling (it made a sound)
In the soulless forest and screams to all the neighboring pines
Then claps with one hand faster than light
The child stares down at his dinner plate and asks,
“What is chicken made out of?”