Happy Thanksgiving

 Super-sized Series


 


Thanksgiving by Joanne Durham

The sturdy mahogany table so long I could barely see who was at the head from the children’s folding table attached discreetly under the white laced cloth. China plates with rosebuds and silverware my sister and I were tasked to polish. My great grandmother’s remaining children and their children, all blended into a bond called aunts and uncles. My brain tries to run like a backwards clock, ticking off their names - Aunt Ida, Aunt Eva, Uncle Harry… And cousins, their  last name was Weil, surely shortened at Ellis Island, with a wooden wheel with real spokes that turned on their mailbox. I envied them having a name with a double meaning. Maybe that’s why I loved poetry even then – if you can’t find exactly the right word, you can always work your way around the alphabet of your life and find another way to say it.  Maybe I just want names to claim them, to know the thread between us still holds, like rope that holds an anchor steady, a way to pull yourself back when you aren’t sure where you’re headed, but at least you know where you came from. 

First published in The Mackinaw

Grandma Talley’s Husband’s Cake by Mary Ellen Talley

blind date
future fella for a
WWII nurse

wash wounds
crisp linen
read love letters

marry the First Lieutenant
move to Spokane
raise three children

new 1950’s kitchen
Happy Thanksgiving
bake her mom’s spice cake

tomato soup, flour,
cinnamon, cloves,
dates and nuts

slather the cooled cake
with cream cheese icing
year    after     year

then comes Vietnam war,
mail the angel cake form
to stateside Navy son and his wife

next generation, Iraq war
son’s wife mails same cake
to daughter and Navy son-in-law

every Thanksgiving
it is a dense cake 
and travels well
Grandma Talley’s Husband’s Cake 

blind date
future fella for a
WWII nurse

wash wounds
crisp linen
read love letters

marry the First Lieutenant
move to Spokane
raise three children

new 1950’s kitchen
Happy Thanksgiving
bake her mom’s spice cake

tomato soup, flour,
cinnamon, cloves,
dates and nuts

slather the cooled cake
with cream cheese icing
year    after     year

then comes Vietnam war,
mail the angel cake form
to stateside Navy son and his wife

next generation, Iraq war
son’s wife mails same cake
to daughter and Navy son-in-law

every Thanksgiving
it is a dense cake 
and travels well
 
Without a Recipe

I am my mother just now
boiling 
the carcass

skimming the mixture 
culling for bones
the large 
the small
those pointy ones
I’d hate for someone
to swallow

I pour in a bit of vinegar
mom said would
leech calcium from the bones
remove gristle
and skin

chill broth and 
remove the white layer of fat
drop loose
bits of meat 
into the pot 

simmer slow an hour 
straining
and diving
for the last 
sliver of bone

add carrots, celery,
homemade
Herbs de Provence 
trying to recall
what tasted good
last year
the week after 
being thankful.


 
Without a Recipe

I am my mother just now
boiling 
the carcass

skimming the mixture 
culling for bones
the large 
the small
those pointy ones
I’d hate for someone
to swallow

I pour in a bit of vinegar
mom said would
leech calcium from the bones
remove gristle
and skin

chill broth and 
remove the white layer of fat
drop loose
bits of meat 
into the pot 

simmer slow an hour 
straining
and diving
for the last 
sliver of bone

add carrots, celery,
homemade
Herbs de Provence 
trying to recall
what tasted good
last year
the week after 
being thankful.



 

Two poems By Lynn White

Talking Turkey

There is a rumour going around
as rumours do
in this community.
It is said
that a celebration is being planned
by humans.
Specifically
by those humans who feed and pet us.
It is being said
that we will be invited
to join them,
that we will be a part,
an important part
of the celebration.
So now we are waiting
wondering 
what role we shall play,
wondering 
if we will get drunk,
wondering 
if we will enjoy it all
as much as our humans will enjoy 
our presence.


First published in The Drabble


Fine Dining

Fellow Woodlanders be seated!
The hard work is done,
the best china set out,
the heads have rolled
and now we’re ready 
to eat the rest
giving thanks and gratitude
for what we’re about to receive.
So fear not
let us enjoy our feast
no one is there to watch us eat.
All the rest are just dead meat.

First published in Ekphrastic Review, Jennifer Angus Challenge

 
Knutson grandchildren, Nicholas, 18, and Cameron, 5. 

Thanksgiving for Our Family of Twenty-Six by Sharon Waller Knutson

In pelts once worn by animals,
they make the pilgrimage
not on the Mayflower
but in SUVs, pickup trucks
and RVs from Idaho, Utah
and Washington to Arizona.

Instead of shooting 
wild turkeys with a cannon,
they stop at Wal-Mart.
While the youngest son
smokes the turkey, the oldest
son grills seafood and yams

as our daughter and daughter
in laws and granddaughters
make pumpkin and pecan
pies, cranberry sauce
and side dishes as the teens
and twenties ride their quad runners
up the dirt road. The youngest greats –
two toddlers and infant - nap. 

But that was only a dream.
 I wake up to an explosion
in the kitchen and my husband
removing a pot from a red hot

burner on the stove and cleaning up 
shards of egg shells. So much 
for boiled eggs stuffed with guacamole.
On a turkey table mat, the two of us
eat a lamb chop, green salad
and mashed potatoes. We had turkey

cranberries and yams last week.
But the house isn’t empty. It is filled
with the spirit of loved ones long gone.
And voices wishing us Happy Thanksgiving
on smart phones, land lines and email.


Thanksgiving—Freedom from Want by Joan Leotta

In these times when folks are
losing jobs, medical care and more,
I think about Rockwell’s four
poster/paintings from WWII 
about the basic principles
we were fighting for.

Freedom from Want puts on display
a large family and food in abundance 
laid out for Thanksgiving Day.
Looking ahead to November from 
right now, July I wonder if I, if
we will celebrate in that same way
or will we be called upon to
simply give thanks for whatever
we have no matter how reduced 
our company, our plates, our state.