I Give Thanks.

I give thanks for closed doors
And whispered conversations
Over jellied cranberry sauce
It’s jiggling surface speaking
In tremors of words unspoken
As knives scratch china
Eyes cast down
At its embellished corners
The faded golden trail
That decorates overdone turkey
Far more intriguing
Far easier to deal with
Than the trails of frowns
Long ago screaming
Disappointment and frustration
Hate and heavy love
Without ever saying
A word.

I give thanks for closed doors
That I might not have to see you cry
Though your eyes give you away
And your slow deep sighs
Fogging the glass of wine
Poured from a bottle
Open for too long
Blood red but fermenting
Like vinegar
Burning our throats
Like the words we refuse to say
I forgive you
And mean it
Instead we stare in silence
Our lips parted about the cheap crystal
Hoping that perhaps the more we endure
Of wine that tastes
Of years passed long ago
The more we just might
Be able to
Not forgive
But forget.