Sunday Dinner
by Olivia Ebel
I forgot to get the chicken you like at the supermarket
The thighs with the skins that you tear off before
I’ve had a chance to set the table like company’s coming
Just because it’s Sunday and we like it to feel like
The house is orange and warm with candles we light
Four times a year and your Mother’s white russian
Is tempting the cat that hangs precariously
Between Christmas tree branches because here
Christmas ends in February when we finally decide
There are more pine needles in between the cat’s paws
Than on the tree and the smell is now content with being
Relegated to green candles we take out when we are
Nostalgic for the holidays just before Halloween
Because it's starting to get cold out and pine
Needles remind us that Christmas is coming
And family will be just around the corner
And so we decide to make that chicken bake you like
Because we are happy and its autumn and it
Smells like pine in our house and I bought
The wrong chicken thighs which don’t have any skin
But I promise they’ll taste just as good when
I prepare them the way you like and leave it
On the table in front of your chair so that when
You come home you might be happy and forgive me
For my mistake since you know I’d never purposefully
Choose the wrong chicken it’s just that things slip
My mind these days and thoughts seem to clatter around
My brain like bingo balls and when I wake up tomorrow
And see the cat sleeping soundly on top of your
Plate and its belly is fat with the wrong chicken thighs
I’ll remember that it’s been forty weeks since you
Sat at that table and forty weeks since you had
The right chicken and after forty weeks I can’t
Remember if it was your favorite chicken dish
Or if it’s my favorite now because it’s the
Last meal we shared together forty weeks ago
And I've eaten it every night since.