Poem-A-Day

Butcher Shop*

by Sharon Israel

I worked in my father’s butcher shop only once.

Scooped shiny brains into plastic bags.

Arranged them carefully like pale jewels

in the glass display case, a Snow White coffin 

filled with orderly chickens, beef livers, loins

and an eyeless lamb’s head - so quiet.

My father didn’t want me near his faint

acrid smell, his stained fingers 

and red-rimmed, half-mooned nails,

his sharpened grey carving knifes, 

formica walls with their pink-blood wash.

He didn’t want me to see him sweat

as he hooked carcasses to a refrigerated ceiling.

* previously published in Epistemic Literary

~

Sharon Israel is a poet, teacher, radio/podcast host of Planet Poet Words in Space and member of the poetry/soundscape duo OrphicMix with composer Robert Cucinotta.