for Rebecca

Made by her mama in Grandma’s
Jello mold, just the way G made it—
with canned fruit and whipped cream
to dab on top—

served at her mama’s house after
a fine dinner out, a childhood favorite
of this kid now 45, tall and gorgeous
as ever (we’re just a tad biased, but
we’re not wrong).

And though we’d been well fed at
the restaurant (some of us had dessert
there, too), the cry went round:

There’s always room for Jello!

So we spooned up the red sweetness
into G’s bowls older than any of us,
plopped the whipped cream on top
and dug in,

the collection of humans that makes up
this family—some by birth, some by choice—
delighted to celebrate two birthdays
(not forgetting the 80-year-old uncle)

as we remember the ancestors, the ones
who’ve passed into mystery, holding
them in our hearts, saying their names,
tasting the love on our tongues,
swallowing it with big smiles.