the bird comes out
steaming from the oven
a grand matron of great prestige
she calls attention to herself
delicately shoves aside the dishes
who bow and scrape in her wake
the guests gaze in awe
tongues lolling out
like so many labradors
eyes rolled back in anticipation
gravy follows
pooling between mountains of potatoes
an alpine lake
turkey is to Thanksgiving
as fireworks on the 4th
Presents for Christmas
I am suddenly
an outsider
it happened so fast, in the course of a year
different from my family
for not eating a bird
they are nice
don't stare
as I fill my plate with docile vegetables and
heavy mashed potatoes
inside they wonder
why does she obstain?
What is the reason?
I have my reasons
not to consume this rich delight
the turkey parts the ground
like a wealthy spinster
who wraps the guests around her little finger
er, drumstick.
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