Poems of Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving I

 

The clouds lie gray and flat as lace

Through the windows, tucking the

Pale brown land in at the corners

Like a child who can never

Be too warm at night. Even with

Mittens on, my hands feel frozen,

But it doesn’t matter and I don’t care

Because all I can think of

Is how the dull cornfields blur

Like a swarm of paper-gold birds

As the car rushes by, how they bounce

Off the walls of the frail red

Diladipated barn and riddle

It with comets.  

 

Thanksgiving II

 

It is as curious as

Dog hairs and glasses of wine

And late lunches, as itchy

As idle chatter or stupid questions

That get on your nerves and make

Your head hurt. It is like those

Short glances from the cousin you

Never see and never speak to,

The polite nods you give when

You pretend to listen. Somewhere

At a dinner table politics poison the

Potatoes, somewhere down the

Street someone helps

With the dishes but does all

The work themselves. There is

Rushing and hemming

And hawing, but we all sit down

In a circle, and we laugh,

And somehow, it is good.

Somewhere someone lonely lies

Snoring in a chair and here,

Before the stars even open their eyes,

The blue-eyed woman goes

To bed hoping it will

Make her remember

10 minutes ago.

 

Thanksgiving III

 

Someday,

I will call it Thankful

When our eyes meet,

 

Even though I do not know you

And have never met you,

And perhaps will not even know

What you look like

For some time,

 

But when I find you,

I will call it Thankful,

 

And I hope you will

Find that in my eyes, too.