Look, I’m Not Good at Eating Chicken.

& yes, my family did raise me right. Yes,

they stripped their bones & cracked them clean

open to suck. Would fight over cartilage & knuckle.

Sip the marrow’s nectar from urn. Yes, I watched.

Yes, I’ll teach my children the same. To savor

the sound of their teeth against bone pulling & pulling

always in search of more. But right now I’m alone

in a strange city with money in my pocket

no children waiting to be fed or taught. Meat on the bones,

skin in the trash. Joints a trap of bird & muscle

wanting to be chewed. Let me be young & disrespectful.

Let me leave my plate an unfinished slaughter.

Let me spend & eat until I, no one else, says I’m done.