The turkey’s all done
my love is in the kitchen
making pies and deviled eggs
preparing the dressing
Alice’ Restaurant Massacre ringing
the dogs laid out in a post-breakfast nap
the family feast is set for later
all love and unarticulated anger
(which is the same thing)
and we find our stumbling way
towards gratitude, imagining
the burning world is a hearth
that everyone is safe and warm
their feet under a friendly table.
We will not be broken by the heat
though the dogs languish and pant
in spite of fresh cold water in the kitchen.
There is no option but exist as best we can
soak in the cool morning air
embrace the relief of night rain
the sky cracking lightning after the long
sweaty burn of the day
taking in the dance of bats after sunset
as we sit on the back porch, finding
civility in the constant experiment
defining our home – your rescued plants
my unfinished projects – against a world
of mass-produced distraction.
Some nights after a cruise I will go to bed without taking a shower wearing the scent of the diesel and river on my skin. Though I try not to wake her, she mutters half-awake and pushes up next to me. We breathe each other in. She smells of ripe peaches and spring flowers. We fall asleep.
