From fingernails to eggs

You can add the sound of the cracking of pretend eggs
To fingernails on the chalkboard
At least in my book
At least in my life
Where every evening three of us cook in the kitchen
All of us using my pots and pans and whisks
And only one of us not using wooden eggs and
Milk cartons and
Producing the lowest calorie food possible
On the floor
Of my kitchen
Of my life
Where the wooden eggs
React quite angrily to being
Subjected to the pantomime
Of cracking
Sounding like a baby chicken caught in a teapot and
Being quite inconsolable and
Quite real
At least to my ears
Which don’t even hear as well as they used to
When I sat in a classroom with a chalk board and
Feared something more than wooden eggs
At five in the afternoon
On my kitchen floor