The Hunger of the Frost

Thinking about Thanksgiving

The November wind arrives on the plains like a foreclosure agent demanding payment on a debt we foolishly thought was forgiven. It scours the siding of the farmhouse and tests the thermal seals of the windows with a predatory patience. We construct our defense against this encroaching gray violence with the ritual of the feast.

Thanksgiving has transformed from a harvest celebration into a desperate barricade of calories and electric light meant to hold back the heavy sky.

We gorge ourselves to prove our own viability in the face of a landscape that wishes to consume us. We mistake the high calorie count of the meal for actual survival skills. There is a frantic and terrified energy to this consumption because we are eating and drinking against the clock.