Everyone lives for that Thanksgiving meal

Where life grinds by on a crumbling wheel

Tradition is safe, tradition is sound

Distract from the secret buried underground

No one notices the odd heap of earth

In the backyard, like the dirt giving birth

"Pass the potatoes" or "Pass the peas"

Ignore your cousin's dirt-caked knees

Reach for the knife, he offers it to you

Remain calm, slowly swallow then chew

A red hue is layered under each of his nails

Aunt Judy recounts her childhood tales

Laughing, the forced hollow kind, fills the crowded room

I can't help peering out the window at the earth's wound

My cousin waves at me, "Earth to Emma.", and grins

Proudly he wears the deed on his sleeve, cowardly sins

I feel sick and stand, "He killed her! You all saw!"

All my family members turn to stare at me in awe

Aunt Judy jumps up, "You know we don't discuss this!"

My cousin grabs me, "You're one I'll never even miss."

The whole family joins in removing me from the table

Dragging me to the yard,I try to escape but am unable

That was my last Thanksgiving spent in this world

The Thanksgiving the family secret was unfurled.

Do not dig a grave

For things that should have been.

Do not let "I'm sorry" escape

With each sobbing breath.

Do not let "I should have"

Be an epitaph.

twice before you fell quiet,

and in each small fist of meaning,

i could not say enough.

you pressed your heartbeat

to my fingertips.

i let it falter.