Raccoons at Betty Crocker's Home

Three times each day, she comes and goes,
near evening time, said mother knowsreal weird, she’s strange, old kook, mind blown:
one way of life you’d best not know.

Half-chewed, black cream, her sweet coat cake
     a frosted, blue raspberry blend
Concocted roast: curated, cooked:
     three nibbles she considered, trashed
Brim potted meats we munch and dine:
Denial’s stash of candies, fruits
A mountain waste, nutrition hull

Detritus rules our Kingdom Can
Tomatoes stain my mother’s grin:
she smiles red salvation, yes
she’s breathing, yes and cooking, though
not eating much,
so strange and weird
her way of life need not to know.


About the Author: JW Mark is a poet living in Sagamore Hills, Ohio. Publications to include his work include The Ampersand Review, Eunoia Review, The Midwest Literary Magazine, flashquake, and The North Chicago Review. He is the author of a novel, entitled Artifice, as well as a book of poems entitled Patched Collective. He can be contacted at jwmarkmail@gmail.com