the turkey cutter

when she carved
a turkey, she carved
a turkey.
the zen of it.
focused in on
the moment.
while her hand
guided
the slight soft
buzz of the electric
knife. she pursed
her lips
and blew
out with concentration.
two drumsticks,
the breast
sliced evenly,
white meat
and dark.
second street deli
would be proud
to take her on
one day,
and when she
was done,
the wings
last, the stuffing
out. she passed
the plate around
and sighed,
saying
that another
year had passed,
and she hadn't
lost a thumb.