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 eating 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.