Every year my family gathers around the kitchen table
(boxed wine and chatter
about distant binge-drinking aunts)
When I was young my sister carved the turkey
(swatted my hand when I reached for
the carving knife. "I want to do it this year!")
I am in her place at the kitchen table
(boxed wine and chatter
about the bruises on my knees)
I will forever stand in the kitchen
(no one swats my hand when I reach for
the carving knife. "Maybe I'll do it this year.")