I am young and I trace
An outline of a pumpkin pie.
It sits on the paper, the sight
Of its circular symmetry makes me happy.
I use a crayon, sometimes
But I prefer the markers. (If I wasn’t on a budget,
1000 or so would be in my hand)
The tantalizing smell of that pumpkin pie fills up
My nostrils, I feel completely entranced by
A fruit (maybe a vegetable?) that I would never dare
Eat alone, yet when combined with the
Sweet white that spits out of that cold bottle
And the bread foundation that tastes like the feeling of home,
I want nothing more than that pie to be in my stomach.
Hail the pies! Praise Thanksgiving!
I went to the store today, saw a turkey roasting
Turning around in that hot bed, that grill…
One single touch could kill a tiny fly.
Could murder a whole group of them cockroaches!
It’s already dead, so sad, but eventually
Birds land on the ground, doesn’t matter where
I guess. Dumb minds don’t care where they rest they
Just sit and sleep! Poor turkey, he is aloof, alone
What if he was tired of his own existence? a sad
But pleasant place to die, being burned to the point,
Where the smell of the once open fields you roamed turns
Into that unmistakable season of life. Well, some things don’t matter.
I want nothing more than that turkey to be in my stomach.
Hail the turkey! Praise Thanksgiving!
Oh, silly family
The way you cooked that turkey, the ghost of
The grill still echoing its hypnotic turn
The way you baked that pumpkin pie, sugar shaking
As the sweetness accessed the entryway to your brain,
It was a tad bit overdone, the champagne bottle
That now rests on the table, with only a few drops
Still lingering, certainly did not help with the
Cooking process, dumb mammals we all are sometimes.
I never prayed once though, for you to enter my stomach,
All I’ve ever wanted was to be at a table, chugging that
Skinny glass you left me, laughing my ass off, enjoying
And giving thanks to all of the moments with you.
Hail Family! Praise Thanksgiving!
Hail you!