tongs pull porcine flesh
out of plastic wrap to place
them in the frying pan
and while the flame slowly burns
I rearrange these little bacon sardines
to fry as much as I can
at once

urges
that’s how things get done
in this house,
waiting for Lucretius’ swerve
to alter the nature of things,
and so, sitting, something 
moves me to the kitchen
to eat my planned leftovers
which means going hunting in our fridge
that leads to frustration
with tupperware, moldy green beans,
a soggy salad, turnips with twigs,
so much wasted extra
that my mother can’t part with
that my father can’t be bothered with
that I just can’t with
anymore

and so I pull, separating rancid remainders
from the rest
knowing I have to get it out of the house
before my mother gets home

but sure enough she arrives
in my head
can’t put those moldy strawberries in
the trash you have to put them in the bucket for
the creek, maybe we can salvage those tomatoes
and that bag of peppers, we made that dish just last
Monday so its still good, that potato salad only has a little
spot of mold, that buttermilk from January can be used for something
right?

these are voices I live with, knowing if I don’t make them
now, I’ll hear them later
I hear the door open, my dad in from mowing
and seeing how deep I’ve dug into our cool past he knows
we have work to do

he pulls the full bag out
and replaces it with a new but
on top of a second one so the plastic
can glide and it doesn’t get stuck- he points
to repurposed fruit packaging to dump in the
moldy remnants of past sustenance then quickly
recognizes we’ll need two buckets for it all to fit- he lifts
lids for me while I scrape and toss containers behind me into 
the slowly filling sink so that he can grab the trash while I follow 
behind with the slop to his car to make our way to the creek and then the dumpster-
he knows this dance better than I do

and once it’s done
we’re hungry
and he suggest bacon sandwiches
that I’ll fry while he does
the dishes
and I say sure
because leftovers
don’t seem appetizing
anymore

so tongs pull porcine flesh
out of plastic wrap to place
them in the frying pan

and the fat sizzles