Red line keeps creeping higher,
Belt a little tighter,
Another margin call,
Warm creep against the skull….
Round Two: Second Help(ings):
Stumble upon another slice of breast,
Justifying gravy and another glass of wine.
Slammed, heaving with gobbled turkey neck,
Catch my breath but
Bleeding cranberry sauce down my shirt…
Squealing toward another piece of pie,
No pumpkin, this time I’ll try the mince….
My God, I need a nap.
Sigh and sigh so full with blessing.
I need to find my groove again,
Another party, another glass of wine….
Tomorrow I’ll try lockjaw….