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More poems by Anne SextonAnne Sexton | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Anne SextonBooks by Anne Sexton

The Fury Of Cooks

Anne Sexton

Herbs, garlic, 
cheese, please let me in! 
Souffles, salad, 
Parker House rolls, 
please let me in! 
Cook Helen, 
why are you so cross, 
why is your kitchen verboten? 
Couldn't you just teach me 
to bake a potato, 
to bake a potato, 
that charm, 
that young prince? 
No! No! 
This is my county! 
You shout silently. 
Couldn't you just show me 
the gravy. How you drill it out 
of the stomach of that bird? 
Helen, Helen, 
let me in, 
let me feel the flour, 
is it blinding and frightening, 
this stuff that makes cakes? 
Helen, Helen, 
the kitchen is your dog 
and you pat it 
and love it 
and keep it clean. 
But all these things, 
all these dishes of things 
come through the swinging door 
and I don't know from where? 
Give me some tomato aspic, Helen! 
I don't want to be alone. 

Submitted by RW

Added: 24 Feb 2003 | Last Read: 26 Jan 2021 12:55 AM | Viewed: 7680 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/8033/ | Viewed on 25 January 2021.
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