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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.


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