You must sit down and taste. —George Herbert
That morning, Gilmore and Mary Frances
sacrificed a lamb for us.
With a cool hand,
I slit the throat,
the lamb did not suffer.
We gathered around the lambskin-draped picnic table.
Direct from the open fire,
we ate everything.
The kidney was the best.
It was tiny—
With a stick, Frances turned the intestines inside out
and washed them with canyon water.
Greenish liquid dribbled into a bucket.
The bundles of intestines, like braids,
sizzled on the open fire.