Revised. From 2008.
Yes, I know the first official Thanksgiving Day
was ordered to celebrate
the massacre of 700 Pequots
Yes, I feel accountable
to those dead
for joining the annual amnesiac rush
to hide behind the lie
of a feast 16 years earlier in Plymouth
that is used these days
to screen us from how we cruise
upon an ocean of blood.
Yes, I annually balance
that shame on the end of a fork.
Yes, yes, to holding tight to the memory
of death in the fields around villages
burning like candles on the shore
of Long Island Sound.
Yes, yes, to the horrid past alive
in every bite of every American dish
eaten every day.
Yes, yes, though,
to days off and family
and people unseen since last year;
to knowing some of these faces
will likely be not here next year,
perhaps not even
Yes, yes, yes.
Yes to our own remaking.
Yes to surviving the remaking of others.
Yes to the remaking of myths
through truth applied more as lesson,
less as bludgeon.