My mom tries very hard to please.
My vegetables are my enemies
A carrot in a sword fight can’t be beat.
A carrot on my plate I cannot eat.
Peas, a game of marbles I can do.
Peas with melted butter taste like goo.
Don’t even put a radish next to me.
My mother makes them roses, pointlessly.
Turnips, I can’t say I understand.
Don’t even bother opening the can.
Brussel sprouts are agony.
Broccoli is mean to me.
She’s tried them alphabetically.
And none of them appealed to me.
I can’t imagine Mom could ever bring
A single green or growing thing –
Zucchini isn’t all that bad.