to kill
a live chicken i used to ask
my grandmother, Lena,
in south Philly.
what's it like to wring
it's neck,
cut it's head off,
then pluck it clean
of feathers.
and then
drop it into a pot
of boiling water
sprinkled with salt?
i'll show you, she used
to say,
bring that fat
one over here, go catch it.
she won't bite you.
i'll let you
do the honors
with the next one.
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