My Father, the Meat Man

by Abby Gibson

He always knew the right place to cut
I can remember visiting him at the store
standing on my tiptoes
Cold air blowing on my face and arms-

Death hanging from the walls
blood dried in every crevice of the room
I think that is why his hands were always so dry.

He always knew the right place to cut
where every slice should begin and end
to make them happy…
And he never cut himself on accident.

This is the only explanation I can come up with
as to why
He knew the exact angles
to separate us
Without hurting himself

Author Bio: Abby Gibson is 17 and attends Warsaw Community High School. She enjoys music, dance, poetry, and longboarding. In her spare time, she likes to take naps and watch detective shows.