the jello poem

i made you jello
she says proudly,
strawberry,
shaking the red bowl
in front of you.
it jiggles, catching
the white of
the overhead light.
i have whipped
cream too, she
whispers.  she
puts one hand
on her betty crocker
hips and smiles.
your cooking skills
astound me, you
tell her, pulling
at the bow on
her apron, but let's
forget the jello
and bring the
can upstairs.