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My Mother's Kitchen

My mother’s kitchen really wasn’t so much.

It was the kids’ kitchen, the daughters’ kitchen, where red food coloring met peanut butter and dried milk and ice cream

in super-special surprises

and the big girls ate at one table and the little girls another

and the daughter who had to wash dishes after dinner got rewarded by choosing what everyone else watched on TV that night.

There were lots of green beans and broccoli, an occasional asparagus and a rare artichoke,

and the only dead thing was the flowers that Daddy never gave Mama

the time he forgot their anniversary.

When Grandma showed up that night, she found the kitchen just as foreign

as Mama did.


Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 5/16/2022 12:50:00 AM

Brilliant, I really enjoyed your poem. I particularly loved this stanza 'and the only dead thing was the flowers that Daddy never gave Mama' great imagery.
Date: 4/18/2022 1:01:00 PM

Nice pen Nancy, good imagery too telling the exploits of the kitchen folk.

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