Love Poem | Dany Owens

Joys of Jif

I can still recall several peanut buttery moments, scattered through childhood

the sticky texture and musky smell of oil

on lip sides and fingernails

Romantic though it hardly is

peanut butter is a present I'd take over

sappy country songs, wilted roses or half hearted inadequate poetry

To this day, I can't decide

if I love the sticky stuff, or if I hate it

Constantly I curse its lushly rich pseudo-nutritionality

But all I stated out to say

has probably already been said

Though I haven't seen it