By: Elizabeth Winters

We sat around the stretching table,
We held hands,
Bowing our heads.
The candles shone bright across our faces,
Reminding us of our bounty.
I held on to mom’s hand tightly,
And brother’s hand grasped mine.
It was good to remember,
The comedic moments,
And those times…
When only family could ever understand.
Even through the years,
And emotional rifts forming,
We could be together again.
In this day of solemn thanks,
And the sharing of stories,
The exchange of grins,
We could clearly see…
Each was proud of the other,
In seeing the contributions brought.
I said in praise to my family,
“Thank you for the life you’ve shown me.”
Mother said in shameless pride,
“Thank you for a family in which I belong.”
Brother said in jest,
“Thank you for loving friends.”
We laughed and looked around.
The girls chained to the walls,
Bruised and bleeding,
“What a lovely crowd, indeed.”
There was one in each corner,
Of our beautifully decorated dining room.
Two, partially conscious,
One ripe with fresh decay.
The other, most certainly,
Passed out from blood loss.
Her arms hanging from the ceiling above her,
Dripping her own blood,
Back onto her swollen, naked body.
Audibly sobbing in desperate starvation,
The one nearest to me…
I stood and walked over to her.
Tear-stained face, ugly and dirty,
She watched my ascent in horror.
I casually touched her stomach.
“You hungry, little bunny?”
She nodded, pleading in her eyes.
I kissed her cheek,
I grabbed her hand..
“Stay here, bunny, and I’ll give you treats ”
She looked at me as I approached the table.
I looked over the dishes,
Aromatic and delectable.
These were not for my little slave though,
I reached my hand to the head.
This bunny had fallen in love with me,
And lost her head over me.
I now admit, what a beautiful head it still was,
And made the most appealing centerpiece,
For our holiday meal.
I plucked out her rotten eye,
And placed it in the pit of my spoon.
I drizzled a bit of gravy,
And served my little bunny on the wall.
She was horrified,
Certainly wishing she had bile to spew.
I removed the dirty cloth from her mouth,
And held the spoon to her lips.
She seemed confused by its presence,
Unaccepting of my generous offer.
“If you do not take my gift,”
Showing her the knife in my other hand,
“You will not have a tongue to use again.”
Sobbing, she closed her eyes,
Forcing herself to part her lips.
I slid the treat into her mouth,
She quickly swallowed.
I smiled, petting her face.
She gagged, but it stayed down.
“Happy Thanksgiving, my bunny.”
And placed the cloth back into her mouth.
I sat down once again,
As Mother served me a heap of potatoes,
Covering them in her famous gravy.
I love the holidays,
Which makes me thankful.
Who could imagine a more content life,
A family so wonderful,
And so many beautiful women…
Take a bite of the dressing,
Mixed with cranberries,
Grab my gun from beside my plate,
And blow off my little bunny’s head.
Now that added an air of silent reverence needed,
We truly give thanks.

All written work from Elizabeth Winters is ©2006 by Elizabeth Winters. Any reproduction without express permission of Elizabeth Winters is a violation of this copyright.