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Turkey Strut: In Remembrance Of Thanksgiving
The overseer prances the ground,
keeping watch over his roosters, and
taking delight in his pear-shape hens.
All this in commemoration of harvest
by colonists of yore.
I Remember the war between
courage and cowardice and the
battles lost year after year and
scanning back over my short life
of freedom in the wilds...
"summonding into mind my own freedom
held captive by paranoia and its cohorts...
my own overseers'?
convincing myself that, a turkey i
am not because i'm exempting myself
from fear, yet knowing man's crimson
deeds are no phantasm.
Still, i'm releasing my fear and dread,
fluffing my grey and black plumages, and
strutting to the chopping block...
He chopped off my head,
plucked my feathered,
cast lots for special entrails.
I was saged and bread-filled,
and stuff in hot oven
until tanned, deliciously!
Laying belly up, the center of attraction, as
designed plates, napkins, knives and folks-j
ust for this occasion- all edge
the white-laced table cloth;
and veggies showing off their colors;
sitting in brown gravy, a tender brown
pot roast was quietly beefing off.
Brown rolls were taking takes dip in gravey,
as ocean spray cranberry sauce and
delicious sweetie pies remain handy.
The loosly dressed guests quietness
fills the room, praise extends all,
just a casual mention of the hungry,
no utterance of the turkey.
Stuffing their stomachs until
Bellies bulge, they sit
viewing the remains.
NOVEMBER 2005
Almedia Knight
poem
by
Almedia Knight Oliver
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