by Richard Allen Taylor

Twelve-piece family meal, I blurt from my driver’s seat
toward the metallic croak of the order-taker’s voice.

A bad decision, made under duress of hunger,
condemns me to three, maybe four days

of fried chicken, enough to feed a family of six
in one sitting. Living alone, I will have my fill

of this savory standard of Southern cuisine
on Friday, then sate my flagging urge for the leftovers

no later than Saturday. By Sunday, the fridge will open
to cold bird, hacked to death, not in traditional

breasts, thighs, drumsticks, and wings, but into
unappetizing, unrecognizable shapes, not at all the way

Mom cut up her chickens. The once-crispy milk-battered
skin, having locked in the grease, will tempt me to convert

to vegetarianism. I should have seen this coming before
the cashier shoved that big cardboard box into my window

and gave it an extra push to get it past my face, too late
to change the order to two-piece dinner, please.

Richard Allen Taylor is the author of four poetry collections including Letters to Karen Carpenter and Other Poems (2023) from Main Street Rag Publishing Company. His poems, articles and reviews have appeared in many publications including Aeolian Harp, Flying South, Litmosphere, Pinesong, Tar River Poetry, Rattle, and Sheila-Na-Gig Online, among others. Several of his poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. A former review editor for The Main Street Rag,  and founding co-editor of Kakalak Anthology of Poetry and Art,  Taylor earned an MFA in Creative Writing from Queens University of Charlotte and currently resides in Greer, South Carolina.