knots in her memory but they
are gray as this holiday’s fog.
How did she come to be a passenger?
her silver-haired daughter driving
to this dinner at her son’s house
those other Thanksgivings
she wasn’t the oldest one at the table
each year’s dinner blends into last year’s
candle spilling down the wine bottle
they emptied how many years ago?
all those golden-crust pumpkin pies
turkeys stuffed and basted
squash and potatoes mashed and buttered
drip together over the edges
of her mind like the wax of 90 candles
flowing until the wine bottle disappears
under the weight of melted memories.
(For more by Carlene Tejada and “Blue Pearls,” go to www.totalrecallpress.com or www.amazon.com.)