Better than Mama by Cody Greene

Mama says that’s
Wonderful!
That’s better than I could do!
But all I’m doing
Is doing exactly
As Paula Deen tells me to
On channel 42.
Eat my grits.
It’s like polenta and it’s good for you.
The thing is
I have so many spoons
In the drawer
And Mama can’t ever tell me why
Because her English is bad

And she’s too busy
Watching the space above my shoulder
For smoke.
I ended up choosing the slotted spoon.
Incorrectly.
She’s right though.
It probably is better
Because she can’t even say
Bravo.
It comes out with an L at the beginning
And a second B at the end.
But the end is always the best part
Because that’s when I get to stir-fry
And usually burn the garlic.
See, Paula really likes butter.
Loves really.
Mama says it’s easy to spread it.
Just turn the pan, she says.
I do.
But it’s not easy because
It’s so hot,
And the liquid just sputters
Covering (maybe)
Only half of the pan.
Wonderful.
Paula wishes me love and best dishes.
I see Mama and I remember
Whose kitchen I’m in.
Mama wears a handkerchief in her hair
With daisies and basil
And I can’t remember why I chose Paula
As a foster parent.
The garlic’s burning again
And this time
The space behind my shoulder
Just says
Not bad.