She unrolls the bundled tablecloth
Sweeps it flat with her dainty hands
We are having thanksgiving for two
It numbs the pain
Which is ever present
Decades of bad luck
Skin wrinkled and sore
Scars and broken limbs
I put the potatoes in the oven
Alice lays the plates
It will be just like a feast
In a storybook
She squeals with delight
I bluff with myself
Should I take the wine or not
There is nothing better than tea
She says
As if she can read my mind
I would like to remember today
So maybe I will stay sober
It just helps ease the suffering
Or maybe it makes it worse
It is hard to tell these days
It is like feeling perpetually sick
The potatoes fill the room
With an earthy scent
Our tummies grumble
We sit and wait expectantly for
Our thanksgiving for two.
