Kitchen help

by Jenny Erlanger

There’s beetroot on the ceiling,

down the walls and on the floor.

The dressing’s leaving patterns

that I’ve never seen before.

The nuts and pomegranate

fly like bullets through the air.

I’m stepping over mushrooms

and there’s lettuce in my hair.

My mother’s looking angry,

I’m in trouble, I can tell.

She said to toss the salad

and I’ve tossed it pretty well.