Uncle brings in the dead chicken by
The neck and begins plucking out the
Feathers with a skill that fascinates
Your 10 year old eyes and as you stand
And watch the chicken gradually becomes
Nude and some how not so grand not so
Chicken-like and then Uncle cuts off the
Head and throws it a side and then guts
It and washes it through with water and
Then puts it down on a large plate where
It lays in a solemn silence without fanfare
Or hymns or prayers just Uncle lighting up
A cigarette and you staring at the chicken
Clean and pure and still and from the open
Window a cool evening late September chill.
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Comments: 18
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we all think chicken is something we buy in the supermarket wrapped in plastic and denuded of every evidence that is once lived. I once went through a packing plant that my wife's cousin managed and witnesses 200 hogs being slaughtered and prepared for market...they sell everything but the squeal... I never callously waste food anymore...
Great piece...you should call it "An Ode to Poultry...Not For the Chicken-Hearted". :)
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