Steak, Well Done

 

Steak, Well Done

When Uncle Merrel buys steak
he peers it in the eye, selects it
on the hoof, walks it by rope
to an Amish butcher. A day later
Merrel loads 500 pounds of meat
to his 2-wheel trailer, pulls it
with a smoke-popping tractor
to a freezer in town.

A few cuts Merrel brings home
and cooks special for us,
his west coast nephew and family
who followed the Oregon Trail backwards
for dinner which is mid-afternoon
on farm country time in Missouri.
Back home we don’t eat meat
but we don’t mention.

Uncle Merrel is a patched old machine
pushed too hard for too long,
threads of flesh bound in scraps of denim.
Sweats red oil. Shakes when idle,
then at top speed he groans and grunts.

Steak, says Merrel,
oughtn’t be bloody inside,
you want it cooked but if you order
well done in a restaurant they get mad at you
and flame it too fast so it’s burned outside
but still bloody in the middle.

We appreciate we didn’t have to evaluate
this steak in the eye. Uncle Merrel
cooks with time, with sizzling fat.
Well done, still juicy but not bloody.
The farm way. And golly it’s good.

…..

First published in Sheila-Na-Gig. Thank you editor Hayley Haugen.
Photo by Hedy81 on Pixabay