Barbecue

Plucked
Just in the nick of time
From glowing coals
And raging embers
We resembled a pair
You and I
Of thick, double pork chops
Fallen haphazardly
Into our own cook fire
Georgia fat wood
Stacked and set ablaze

But that was then
And we brown safely now
Slow cooking
Above it all
In the afterglow
Sizzling
Bubbling
We lie slathered
In thick brown hot sauce
Of our own making