Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Thanksgiving In Flyover

The menu skews southern,
as does the company,

gathering like clouds
in a November sky.

Football on the living room tv,
NASCAR in the kitchen -

tight, small circles
and swapping paint.

We gossip sinners from saints
while we're waiting for the crescent rolls.

We plan futures and funerals
while the ice tea brews.

Finally, it's time for blessing the food.
Grannie gives us pure, born again Baptist,

but Mama always slips
a little Native in there.

I share a grin with my little sister
and mutter my own prayer.

Oh, Great Spirit, 
work the wishbone in my favor.
I cheat like a white man, 
but my sister cheats better!

***

For Grapeling's prompt at Real Toads.  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

11 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is poem has such a rich and authentic texture of family, home and thanksgiving.
All the best to you and yours.

Sylvia K said...

You are good and you do make my day along with giving me the best grin of the day -- several days!! Wishing you all the fun things for a great Thanksgiving! Laugh and enjoy!!

Fireblossom said...

I LOVE this! You make me feel as if I'm right there; I can almost smell the turkey. The part about pure born again Baptist vs. Native just makes it all the better. Applause and apple sauce from this little white girl.

17 leaves said...

What a great ending, linking "white man" and "Great Spirit" back to the Native reference.

There's little to no mention of men in this picture of a family run entirely by women I presume (save the football note). For me, Thanksgiving is a horrible day because it was the day my father died (when I was 2). So I can't help but wonder of the gaping hole intentionally or accidentally placed, or maybe all the men are simply watching the game. But I'm imagining a missing father. Still, your intended light and playful tone comes through loud and clear. I guess your sister tends to fair better than you do from year to year, when it comes to luck and good-spirit energy.

These lines and rhymes stand out to me:
"The menu skews southern"
"We gossip sinners from saints"
"Grannie gives us pure, born again Baptist"
menu/skews
like/sky/tight
paint/saints
funerals/brews/food
there/share/prayer

Excellent poem. Happy holidays to you and your family. And may the bone ever break in your favor.

Sioux said...

What a perfect holiday poem. And the prayer at the end is my favorite part. (I hope you get the biggest part of the wishbone tomorrow.)

Oman said...

Happy thanks giving and have a wonderful day. :)

Grandmother (Mary) said...

I'll be celebrating with a few Americans scattered in our vicinity but can't imagine a more perfect prayer- Happy Thanksgiving to you and yor family.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

This is awesome. I feel like I am right there. I can SEE the grin!!!

Helen said...

You set a great scene (table too) .. now pass the turkey!!

grapeling said...

no one slices a scene better, MZ. thanks for adding your voice, and happy thanksgiving to you ~

Susan said...

Who says we cannot have it both ways? I love the undercurrents of native and truth-telling here while all the traditional white privilege themes are played. What exposure!