Chicken Fat

Jennifer Cahoon
Nanny always let me eat
Dark tuna on white sunbeam bread
With chocolate milk
My dessert
Canned peaches in syrup
On the table before dinner was done
Mom would be so mad
That we ate KFC and Carvel
Every day that she was gone
Chomping on barbecue wings
Before we got home
Even with my honey-stained fingers
I never felt ashamed
Not like at home with measured cups
Of milk and dinner rations
Smaller than a war time pinch
Prodded, poked my ass or thigh
To gauge just how ashamed of me
My mom should be
For her daughter is no cheerleader
In size three jeans
My face is too round for any boy
To smile at me, my mother said
Refrigerator plastered with twig-like
Perfections from Glamour magazine
My guilt and hunger mixed in a knot
In my too plump belly
While Jane Fonda whipped my mother
Into shape
So I preferred to eat chicken with my
Grandma
Drink large glasses of whole milk
And fall asleep in her big soft loving lap