Nobody mentioned the way the air felt thick

Nobody mentioned the way the air felt thick,

like the gelatinous skin forming on the gravy boat.

We talked about the highway expansion

and how the winters are getting shorter.

My uncle reached for the ladle

and his hand did that thing where it won't stay still.

My aunt started describing the neighbors' new roof,

her voice rising to drown out the clatter

of the silver hitting the china rim.

In the middle of the table, the turkey carcass

sat in a pool of yellow grease.

Someone had left a deep, clear thumbprint

pressed right into the cooling fat.