On a Day of Tired Eyes
A poetry series

Turkey Day, Hooray

There is something addictive in holidays
There is something addictive in family
There is something addictive in utopias
There is withdrawal in the absence of them

Some years ago, holidays held their spectacle
On Christmas, father ruled over the exchanging of gifts
When giving thanks, father had mother brandish the feast
Traditions enforced, enacted under his expectations
We strained cheer and joy out of the screaming and fists

Brother, now a man, asks why we do that no more
Brother buys chips and tells mother, "make me cookies for treats."
He complains that they're not as he remembered and sulks
But he does nothing himself to make it happen as such
Wonder why sister, now married, won't make brother his feast

This year, sister and husband adhered to traditions none
They saw friends, though, and shared with them laughs
Sister wore lipstick and shadow to hide frowns in between
No turkey or stuffing, but no screaming or fists as well
Then angst with another friend filled that quota at least

~November 2003, RMKS

Thank you for indulging