Villanelle For A Lost Crock Pot Lid

I hope this pork roast doesn't kill a kid.
It's soaked in vinegar, will that be okay?
I couldn't find the god damn crock pot lid;

someone washed the dishes, now it's hid -
not here, vamoosed, it's absent, gone astray.
I hope this pork roast doesn't kill a kid.

I've organized the shelves but GOD FORBID
the pots and pans are rightly put away: 
I couldn't find the god damn crock pot lid.

And so I called my mom, that's what I did:
"My crock pot's trash. This isn't a good day. 
I hope this pork roast doesn't kill a kid."

My mom insisted all was quo pro quid:
"Just top with foil, the roast should cook that way.
You shouldn't even need the crock pot lid."

But night won't go so gentle now amid
my trichinosis worries, so I pray:
"I hope this pork roast doesn't kill a kid.
St. Anthony, where's the god damn crock pot lid?"

I also wrote at MamaPop.com about the President's wife tearing up the damn White House lawn to plant some tomatoes.
Michelle Obama's New Book American Grown: FLOTUS Is A Punk Rock Gardener

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