The First Thanksgiving

Greasy worked hands protruding out of brown jacket sleeves (dirt in the sun) yellow fingernails nimbly pulling tender meat from deer bones in the soft breeze blown day of coastal summer falling into autumn, where geometric rays of sunlight warmly lacerate naked, native skin and roll over brown cotton and ochre hide; the former stretched, the latter bundled across pink striations of muscle hugging one another tough, and existing firm; (we) swarming over meat in the moments of falling into darkness (Moon waxing and waning in and out of roundness); and turkey feathers surrounding (one) swarming smiling but serious meat consuming body: native sienna red skin or brown cotton, stacked on greasy beer-drunk heads and billowing over curves of fat and muscles past ankles, flowing fabric and sunned, stretched skin circling over meat, maize, and scattered feathers on a wooden table, (all woven together with coastal breezes) slobbering and thankful.