With my father in his meat locker—
the sides of large animals hanging from their muscles,
the sinews that define the red meat
articulating former strength.
My father gives me the tour:
This is the piece that will become the filet.
This, we will sell as sirloin.
The sides swing around as my father knocks into them,
unaware as they hit me when they swing back,
a nine-year-old tagging close behind,
hands covered with grease and blood.