day after thanksgiving
i eat pumpkin pie
for breakfast

thanksgiving at a classmate’s
her parents give me
a persian name

black friday
finding out the funeral
will be on my birthday

haven't seen my cousin
in a year
she plays on Snapchat

early Thanksgiving morning
we pack into the car
for the turkey trot

an eye roll
grandma can't comprehend
the rules to catch phrase

thanksgiving meal
we order turkey
at the bar

break from school
homework and tests
Monday morning

four hour car ride
i type my essay
for Spanish class

unwashed wool
caresses my skin
new sweater

arriving home to
a warm hug and
turned down bed

holiday meal
I rush for the
mashed potatoes

cheesecloth
soaked in butter and brown sugar
the turkey’s Thanksgiving attire

coming home
to fresh red flannel sheets
may the holidays begin

sleepy eyes
watching the Hallmark channel
Mom decorates the tree

mac and cheese
sweet potatoes
touching

extended uncle
makes another
sexist remark

Thanksgiving day
couch after couch
taking a nap

Thanksgiving
no one touches
my brussels sprouts

carb-free
we pass the potatoes
under his nose

holiday relaxation
pushed by a stranger
on Black Friday

wishing
I had more time
to do nothing

scrunch
the warm flakes
of the dinner roll

Instagram stories
watching how functional
other families are

Thanksgiving spread
how many more years
do I have with you

lulled to sleep
by the familiar sound
my cat’s purr

catching up
she talks and talks
about herself

fighting the crowds
trying to enjoy
Christmas lights at the zoo

dinner time
my dog guards
the food tables

twenty candles
in my breakfast
is my donut on fire?

love poem
he recites
stirring spaghetti

concrete ocean
sailing to yet another
feast

newborn
watching us put up
the Christmas tree

friendsgiving
we laugh
like old times

friendsgiving
splitting the cost
of rotisserie chicken

Thanksgiving
hearing the news
of my cousin’s suicide

Thanksgiving Saturday
grandma's moving a lot
slower this year

long Thanksgiving table
stretching to reach
grandma’s hand

hiding the truth
my dad tells me
how proud he is

trying not to call school
Home.
in front of mom

Thanksgiving of three
somehow easier
than last year

home for the holidays
mom buys 4-ply
tp

airport layover
the old couple
sipping black coffee

dim yellow lights the
hardwood dance floor—
roasted pecan scent

baggage claim
a warm voice
approaches from behind

all my relatives
ask the same questions
about school

how's school
where's the boy
major change again

family dinner
questioning who I am
tables turning

finally together
a conversation
we’ve been procrastinating

winter time at the zoo
all the animals inside
make me sad
         captured

texting Grandma
“Happy Birthday”
I hope she finds it . . .

friends reruns
tea bag steeps
a fresh relationship

Thanksgiving break
I text my roommate
"I miss u"

crowded winter cafe
too many memories
of who I used to be

black friday
i order myself
a birthday present

scrolling through instagram
my ex’s bio says
‘ring for sale’

one foot between us
i wonder if she likes me
too

yearly debate
next year
we’ll have ham

curled up with mom
burrow in
like my cat used to

waking up
pancakes and bacon
with a side of laughter

brother’s girlfriend
a new
big sister

asleep on the couch
warmed by the glow
of a freshly decorated tree

taking care of mom
the way she took care of me
I learned from the best

paper plate dinner
I will never make it
to the adult table

stirring cheesecake batter
a mixing bowl bigger than her head
a daughter's smile

Thanksgiving Day
playing Cards Against Humanity
alone

vacation
over thanksgiving
our new tradition

deciding to go home—
my car decides I’m
not

morning rays
surprising her family
with hand-pressed coffee

snowstorm inbound
we leave early to
miss it

first year
without grandma
we drive far away

another pie in the oven
trying to get it right
this time