by Sandra J. Lindow
Turducken: Cajun recipe that stuffs a chicken
a duckling inside a turkey.
He is the crème broulée of husbands,
crisp and cream in his habits,
thoughtful in his attention.
His gift for haute cuisine
makes me the envy of the JCs
and the T-Ball Boosters Club.
It's not the cost of the caviar and saffron--
Time, well, gourmet cooking takes time
but we do it together
and not all in the kitchen.
(Early on barding with bacon,
slipped ziplessly into the bedroom.)
But he forbids me my burgers and fries,
my pork rind crisps, my garlic toast,
my Limburger cheese,
my pickled pigs’ knuckles.
It’s not my weight but my taste
that’s become his obsession.
He asks little of me and much;
for, like the epicurean minimalist
who sups only on the perfect black olive
baked in the heart of the Turducken,
after I dine sumptuously, he does the dishes;
and all he asks from me
is the tiniest sip of my blood.
Photo Copyright © Eric Marin 2004
About the Author:
Sandra J. Lindow's poetry can be seen in Asimov's, Say . . . What Time Is It?, The Wisconsin Poets' Calendar, The Magazine of Speculative Poetry and online at Strange Horizons, Raven Electrick, and Fables. For the last 22 years she has worked as a reading specialist in a treatment center for emotionally disturbed children and adolescents. She lives in Eau Claire, Wisconsin with her husband Michael, their daughter Miriam, and their cat, Maisie Cantata Levy.
Lone Star Stories * Speculative Fiction and Poetry * Copyright © 2003-2004