A poem from two years ago. Couldn’t think of any other way to write about the holiday, hence, this reboot. Take care. Be good.
The fiction
Pilgrims at the Table
I understand that on the first Thanksgiving
there was no meal between Pilgrims and Indians,
there was no peaceful gathering around a turkey
or anything in particular having to do with corn,
but rather, John Winthrop’s declaration of a
“day of thanksgiving” when he received the news
that 700 Pequot Indians had been massacred
during a mercenary midnight raid.
And so on this Thanksgiving I must divorce
myself from the history of it, the reframing
or re-mix narrative that has come down to us
from the days we were children as pure jingoistic
propaganda, and instead, because I don’t watch
sports, I will share some food and drink with my family
and give thanks for that and for the privilege I enjoy
but mostly did not earn, and I will try not to feel
guilty and I will try not to eat or drink…
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michael jarmer 