Fresh and well-formed, the bird glints golden in the center,
and just beyond, a pair of eyes shine furtive in their glee.
With chagrin I watch as four by one the distant family enter,
those eyes grow wide with ill-concealed melee.
Across from me the green beans seem to shrivel,
mashed potatoes sweating butter down the bowl.
The secret can't be anything but trivial,
but somehow I'm not certain, on the whole.
I never thought my stuffing to look fearful,
and yet today it seems to glance from side to side.
With a mouth the cranberries might give me an earful,
as they yell for me to run from coming tide.
In the space between the meal and the pudding,
the eyes narrow to their slits and then I know -
The pie shouts out a last-ditch, hopeless warning
but I'm already quite clear it's time to go.
As whipped cream begins to shudder on the table,
and threatens to renounce it's noble cause,
I make a final move while I am able,
And break for yonder doorway without pause.
"Goodbye!" I shout with feeling to the cheeses,
To the breads I say a soft and sweet "Farewell."
For you nor I will never know the secret,
and one who never knows can never tell.