I Cook But No One Eats

I cook but no one eats. I bring my offerings to pot-lucks. But no one wants to be lucky. I take it home, without a spoonful gone. I make surprise casseroles. They are a glorious testament To everything we have had to eat that week. My husband eats before he comes home. I bake and people laugh. Once I made an inedible cake. My twin and cousin rolled it into balls. They bounced all over the sidewalk. It was from a cake mix. My mother asked how I had done it. No one could eat it, but we played with it all day. If I knew how I did it I would do it again, and often.