The Fourth Thursday of November

Apple pie sometimes speaks To us of mother love or patriotism My tongue usually takes the message without second thought.

Apple pie sometimes speaks
To us of mother love or patriotism
My tongue usually takes the message without second thought.

Mouthing the cud of gratitude,
Calvin asks for a second.
Not pie. Bird. Turkey, the lamb of the day.

Seconds are not really necessary.
Ziploc the rest.
Capture the brazen beast in plastic
Before consumption is consumed.

In the bird bought air, Laughter masks
Mixed scents.
Appeal,
Repeal,
Peals of laughter,
Peals of apple.

Plates stacked, Denise calls
For relinquishing of forks.
Civilization surrendered to the machine,
Washed and waiting.

At the end of the day
we go the way
of Garbage disposals:
Ground.
Grounded.

Fullness then gives way
to thanks.
Or sleep.

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