The Feast

As my family pulls out
the hot and steamy turkey
from the blazing fire
that is the oven, my aunt puts
the finishing touches
on the glazed carrots,
slathering honey
on their back side.
We drool when my aunt
puts the soft butter
rolls on the table.
I lick my lips when
I split a roll open
with my knife, sharp
as Excalibur,
as I drown the roll in butter.
We lay the reflective bird
on the table too, that gets
taken out only on special
occasions, and the bird
shines back at us
when it's put under light.
 
I see the gravy
drown the turkey.
Our stomachs growl
like angry dogs in the night.
As we jump onto our padded
chairs, excited to dig in,
we are surrounded by
mashed potatoes and love.
My family makes
mountains the size of my head
on plates piled with
squash, mashed
potatoes, and corn.
When we are done eating,
we clean up, then sit
around the glowing screen.
Some of us collapse like red woods
onto a couch or fight
to keep our eyes open
to watch football.
The only leftovers could feed
a family of mice.

Through the 3rd Eye was supported in its inception by the Grand Rapids Humanities Council and is currently made possible by continued volunteer effort and private support. Copyright 2013.