and gravy please

having starved yourself for
three days
you're ready for thanksgiving.
you've done two hundred sit ups
walked approximately
nine miles, did a hundred jumping jacks.
you've biked and lifted weights.
you drank water
and then more water.
you ate a black olive, but spit
it out before swallowing.
you've taken deep breaths
raising your arms skyward.
doing circular motions.
you aren't sure why you are doing
this, but you do it anyway.
you feel prepared.
your belt is on a different
notch. you feel weak and close
to fainting so carefully
you inch your chair towards the table.
you are wearing your red
holiday sweater with reindeer
embroidered on it.
as if down a long dark hallway
you hear someone saying a prayer.
dizzy, you try to keep your head
from falling forward
and hitting your empty plate.
you can see your face
in the shiny white dish.
your eyes are dark and hollow.
you say a prayer that the long
winded prayer you are hearing
will end soon.
you place a napkin into
your lap and whisper amen, finally.
trembling you reach for a fork.
dark or white meat someone
says to you from far away
across the table.
both you say. and gravy too,
please.