how to carve a turkey

i remember

her mother taking the knife

out of her

husband's hand and saying.

sit down.

you don't know how to

carve a turkey.

i got this.

we sat there in stunned silence

as she

masterfully cut

into the bird

roasted brown.

legs and wings came

off,

the breast

cut clean and careful

in thick slices.

see, she said, that's how

you do it, while

the husband

poured himself another

scotch on the rocks,

mumbled something

under his breath that

he would pay

for later, then tossed

the strong drink down.