The wind whirs outside my window dark
and gloomy
Sun had no chance to be seen
through stratus cloud and omen:
Death awaits.

Thanksgiving Tuesday.
What will be left to be grateful for as days go by?
Which bird will be slaughtered for our feasting,
thirsty souls to devour?
Blood of wine and strangulation bring us together
this once per year
as vows are made and broken.
We’ll see you again
We’ll see you again before next year,
before another fowl massacre for
our grateful teeth.
We’ll see you
We’ll see

I wonder how PETA members feel about Thanksgiving.
Do they hold mass vigils to mourn the deaths
of the multiple millions of turkeys cross-country
being stuffed
and groomed for showy-show?

Once per year
the family comes over.
Let’s make it look good.
White picket fence and la dee da dee
Put a blanket over Uncle Jim
passed out in the corner.
Blame tryptophan today.
Acting out denial
Let’s clean house.
Dust off the feather-duster.
The others will be arriving soon and
what will they think if the silverware’s not polished?
She chokes one screaming breath
as ice clinks in glass
on day meant for gratitude.

Just for today, Jim
Just please
Just use a coaster.


“I’m here!”
Sheila brought Tofurkey stuffed with spelt and hemp seeds
arriving from the séance for fowls come and gone.
She comes dressed in lace
and laced with criticism.
Joins Jim on the couch,
sits on the cigarette burn Leslie forgot to cover up.

At least the whiskey is cruelty-free.

She doesn’t use a coaster.

EJZ 11.24.2015

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