poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Thursday, November 22, 2007

Thanksgiving

Did I ever thank you for that wonderful breakfast when my feet were cold
because I was wearing my shoes with the holes in them
and you took off your green and white striped socks and put them on my feet?
I wrote a napkin poem that morning at the little hippie breakfast place in Brattleboro,
Vermont complete with stains from the seitan sausage and the cashew French toast.
The poem is about your green and white socks.
I remember it so clearly though it’s a full year and a thousand
miles behind us. There was the time back there in the old life when the rats
in the walls kept me awake all night and you came over with spackle and a flat metal tool
and covered over the hole they were gnawing by the foot of my bed.
Thank you for that. And thank you for the hot dark chocolate milk
you made a few days ago when I didn’t want to get out of bed.
It was like liquid chocolate cake.

1 comment:

James E. said...

Happy Thanksgiving Rena