HAND-PULLED NOODLES 

Deep belly laughter could be heard from the living room

as Sam and I realized

there was one noodle left to be shared. 

He rescued it from roaring waters, 

I plucked meat from a carcass,

and we shared a chewy bite full of life. 

I wiped my grease glistened hands,

and collected empty bowls of responses

in the silent dialogue

between me and everyone. 

“The perfect amount of noodles,” I thought

as I pulled the last disc of my labor.