HOMEMADE

Little cubes, packed
with plump golden raisins
between sheets of waxed paper

I can still taste
their sweetness
creamy on my tongue

the recipe, reliant
on jarred marshmallow fluff,
was never the point

unlike her husband
or daughter, my grandmother
never loved to cook

but she let me use up
all the tinfoil in the house
making armor, let me

draw on their china plates
with blunt wax pencils
and said it was good

said I was good
whatever I created
with my own small hands

This week's prompt at ReadWritePoem invites us to consider our associates with particular foods -- a resonant theme for the week during which American Thanksgiving falls!

My response to the prompt arose out of remembering one of my favorite dishes that my maternal grandmother, Alice Fried Epstein (of blessed memory), used to make. Of course, the poem is more about her (and about being her granddaughter) than it is about the recipe on the back of the marshmallow fluff jar -- but I think that's probably the point.

If you'd like to see how others have responded to the same prompt, check out this week's Get Your Poem On post at RWP.

[homemade.mp3]