The rock is ten
tons of granite.
I saw it years ago
and figured out
the story--
the pilgrims hustled
down a gangplank
from the Mayflower
and landed on the rock.
They schmoozed
the Indians and made
Thanksgiving dinner
without electricity.
They couldn’t
flick a switch
as we do.
We spend
Thanksgiving
watching football
on TV
and eating turkey
from a store.
We can google
Plymouth Rock
and get a surprise:
historically,
the pilgrims didn’t
land there at all.
Sarah Henry's poems have appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Pittsburgh Poetry Review, Soundings East, The Hollins Critic and many other journals, as well as six anthologies. CheapPop and Donut Factory featured her humorous prose.
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