Once upon a time I had a poem published in my school anthology and I actually got an award for it. It was a small school, and only honorable mention, but I thought that was cool for a poem that I whipped out in a few minutes as a requirement for an assignment. It just popped into my head a minute ago and I figured I’d share, since there’s a lot of cooking stuff here. If the name of the leftover god doesn’t make sense, click.
Inspired, I gaze at the sink’s hard steel.
The metallic mouth with rubber lips
roar the name of the mighty god Erator
who promises to make me “In-Sink” with my universe.
I put on my war paint
of leftover pudding and mayonnaise.
I rise high the ceremonial wooden spoon
and chant passages from the Sacred Book of Betty Crocker.
I work the transformational magic with flour, oil, butter and eggs.
I am blessed by the sacred Garbage God to fear no leftovers.