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Cook’s Poems


October 2009

For butter or for verse

2,5 grammes,
cold from the fridge,
melting slowly in the mouth,
for myself, secret, occasional delight.

15 grammes,
melted and cooled to skin temperature,
dribbling slowly over the tip
of my breast, warm and smooth.

An image for you.

25 grammes,
dissolved in unctuous risotto,
to sustain and nourish you,
with my heart and soul.


September 2009

Cook’s Poem

My sweet and most steady companion,
old, no ancient friend from Afghanistan,
Thousands of  years before we could even conceive
these modern wars you gave us
warming sustenance.
You are strong and full of purpose.
And you will remain my first love.

Seductress, creamy white thighs behind
purple veils, needing bitter salt to avoid
your bitterness. Smooth and silky the result,
when China was the Empire,
as it will be again.
You are mysterious and subtle.

And your kiss made me feel so sensuous.
Little playthings, tiny pearls,
can hardly catch you in the water,
your flower called the shade of the fount of life,
originating from the African planes with
instant potential to feed the millions.
Your are exotic and alien here now.
But you are like a new child to me.

All grains and vegetables have history with men.
And all men have history with men.
And cooks read the future with love.



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