Pulled Pork Dies in Ketchup
by Alice Youtz
Runestone, volume 12
I stab at limp meat with my fork
swishing it around on the plate.
Ketchup smears over the peas.
The pork gets drowned.
I bring the soggy mess to my lips, bite then
swallow.
No bun? asks my older sister. I shake my head
no.
You are what you eat. I see the exasperated sigh that shakes
through her body. She doesn’t understand; we only
have whole wheat buns left. Whole wheat.
Not for me,
no thank you.
The pickle jar sits smugly next to the extra-beefy hot dogs
(placed lovingly on the fancy glass
platter reserved for such occasions).
The corn I shed not yet two hours ago lies buttered
up under the too hot July sun.
My dad’s got the grill going, burgers galore.
We celebrate America’s Fourth of July with food like this:
cheap comfort, extravagantly displayed. It’s a tradition
in our household, even when there isn’t much tradition about us at all.
Four
Asian daughters.
A white Dad, a white Mom.
We sat at the table all in a row
the four daughters, on the Fourth, extravagantly displayed.
America’s Independence Day
Celebrated by a little girl who was American but never looked the part.
A little girl who didn’t know — not yet —
what independence was, smothered by
the red, the blue, the white, the white, the red
of the American Flag.
You are what you eat.
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Alice Youtz
Smith College
Alice Youtz is a senior at Smith College majoring in English literature and minoring in Spanish. Having grown up in Hong Kong, New Jersey, and later Connecticut, she dreams about traveling around the world and becoming a novelist. With a love of poetry and fiction, she has worked in the design and editorial departments at her college’s literary magazines. She is currently writing a fantasy novel with her triplet sisters.