Our Mother’s at a Meeting
 
 


by Kenn Nesbitt
 
   
Our mother’s at a meeting
for some big, important deal
and couldn’t be at home tonight
to cook the evening meal.

She left some short instructions
that my sister was to follow.
Instead my sister cooked up things
impossible to swallow.

Like Brussels sprouts in vinegar
and jellybeans in mustard,
an onion-pickle pudding
and a lemon-radish custard.

She burned a stick of butter
till the house was filled with smoke,
then fried a pound of pepper
with a half an artichoke.

She put a whole banana
in the blender with a steak,
then mixed it up with tuna fish
and baked it in a cake.

She stirred some chocolate ice cream
with garbanzo beans and bacon.
A single bite was all it took
to leave me feeling shaken.

We should have ordered pizza,
but we didn’t know, alas,
my sister is the only kid
who flunked her cooking class.

She put a whole banana
in the blender with a steak,
then mixed it up with tuna fish
and baked it in a cake.

She stirred some chocolate ice cream
with garbanzo beans and bacon.
A single bite was all it took
to leave me feeling shaken.

We should have ordered pizza,
but we didn’t know, alas,
my sister is the only kid
who flunked her cooking class.

Text © Kenn Nesbitt reprinted from When the Teacher Isn't Looking, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Mike Gordon. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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