Belinda Rimmer /In Pursuit of the Perfect Jelly/

In Pursuit of the Perfect Jelly

Steam rises in wafts of orangey heaven.
At last, the plop of the racing car jelly
as it leaves its mould.
I see at once its imperfections:
skew-whiff wheels, half a bumper, lopsided roof.
I swill it away in the stainless steel sink.

The radio plays Shirley Bassey.
I take another box from the shelf.

Steam rises in wafts of strawberry heaven.
At last, the plop of the rabbit jelly
as it leaves its mould.
I see at once its imperfections:
dented ears, missing nose, broken bob tail.
I swill it away in the stainless steel sink

I stand at the kitchen worktop, stare at what is before me and wonder when is there the time to get it right. Not just right; perfect, perfectly right. I will start, then start again. What should be over and done with will take half a day, or longer. I wish you knew me when I could do it without all this poring over every detail. If the door bell rings I never answer, not when I’m in the middle of it. A flood could rain down, a fire break out, a hurricane – I won’t be moved. I ask myself: When is there the time to get it right? I simply do not have the time. Yet still I insist. I don’t want to serve stodgy puddings. I want to serve sweet, smooth, shiny, soothing, sleek, silky, serene, hairless, fluid, perfectly proportioned jelly.

 

One thought on “Belinda Rimmer /In Pursuit of the Perfect Jelly/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s