Thanksgiving

Shawn Girvan

My father, from
his wheelchair,
reminisces about
his grandfather,
who had a glass eye
and sold lumber
during the depression
When men were men
my father says,
almost under his breath

My father, with just
a hint of passion,
gives an address
on The Grapes of Wrath
and Bound for Glory
Even though he knows
I’ve read the books
When times were tough
my father says,
almost under his breath

My father smiles
faintly, when the subject
turns to baseball
The Mets and the Yankees,
and the Cubbies
No Thanksgiving prayer is offered
Not like before,
when my father could walk
I’m glad they finally won
my father says
His family says, Amen