The chickens hang in a row, a hook through each left leg, some legs with scaly yellow feet still attached, some ending at the drumstick. Some of the attached feet are only semi-attached, cut through the joint so that they dangle, fatty soles waving. Some chickens, split open along the belly, expose the ovaries’ bright sacs of yolks, the nascent eggs inside the birds waiting for whites and shells. Others remain mostly whole, bumpy skin buttery; fatty tails over cave-like holes leading to hollow bellies. Beneath these curtains of chickens, white tile counters covered in steel trays with more chickens and parts of chickens. Behind the chickens, women in aprons, selling chickens, their booths festooned with fuzzy green garland lingering from Christmas. One woman points to the orange cluster of yolks, tells me, “Pollo bonito. Con huevos.” I understand this. I can say “pollo.” But I can’t say much else. The words, las palabras, nestled and slippery in my brain.(More …)
Mary Quade
Mary Quade is the author of the poetry collections Guide to Native Beasts (Cleveland State University Poetry Center) and Local Extinctions (Gold Wake Press). Her essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Broad Street, Creative Nonfiction, Fourth Genre, The Florida Review, Fifth Wednesday Journal, West Branch, Confrontation, Grist, and Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment and are included in two anthologies released in 2016: From Curlers to Chainsaws: Women and Their Machines (Michigan State University Press) and Writing Essays: Twenty Essays and Interviews with Authors (SUNY). Her essay “Hatch” was listed as a Notable Essay in Best American Essays 2013.