by Stephanie Music

Created on: November 12, 2009   Last Updated: November 16, 2009

thanksgiving

i spend it alone

will my son eat today;

money spent on food, not drugs?

will he come home at all?

will he try harder to hide the gun i found when i cleaned his room last week?

i sit watching the clock, dinner cold, tasteless on my plate

i hear a car door in the driveway

my son enters without a word spared for me,

heading straight for his room like always

i notice a red stain on his shirt

what has he done this time?

who has he hurt?

is he ok?

thoughts raging through my head,

i walk to his room

he stops me at the door, throwing clothes in my face

wash these, he says with a slam of the door

i stand there helpless; afraid

willing my feet to move to the washer

i look down at the clothes

the stain; so big

i am speechless; terrified

i reach out to touch it, it smears

i smell it, take a finger, taste it

cranberry sauce

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