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 The Fury Of Cooks by 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.
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