You left for school,
And I turned on the stove,
Boiling the carcass till the
House filled with the scent of chicken
And flakes of meat fell off the bone.
Burner off, and stock cooling,
I started the noodles,
Kneading the flour and egg and water
With my hands,
Cutting the ribbons wide.
Meat de-boned and noodles cooked,
I started the sauce,
Simmering butter and flour and stock and salt and pepper
Till it clung to the back of the spoon.
Dinner was served at the high school parking lot,
Between track practice and jazz band.
You entered the car, still flush from your run,
And ate the chicken and noodles from a plastic bowl.
“It’s good,” you said, between bites.