Introduction

Swinging Door Introduction

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Your name may be its own
Fluctuating
Metaphor,
But here
Within
We haven’t the time
To unravel such things—
We are busy.
And you
Are too
I’m sure—
You see,
We are
Not entirely dense;
Our occupations
Are not
Things we’ve
Simply
Stumbled over:
We obey Newton’s laws.
Even when you
Are at rest,
We acknowledge
That you are
"Tend[ing] to remain at
Rest.”
Now,
This clearly established,
Half of you must
Have been wondering
What it is
You’ve been seeing
A portion
Of this time.
Well,
Here
We are a relatively peaceful society
(With a few important exceptions).
Our dogma
Is polytheistic,
Consisting of
A
Battered Joy of Cooking,
Dexterity,
Taste
And—
God, I know I’m forgetting someone—
Um,
Ah yes,
Mothers everywhere.
Our labour
Is our love,
And we balk not
At tired clichés
Like eggs benedict,
Spaghetti,
Or chocolate cake;
Each task is its
Own reward,
And each is its original
And master.
From the bases of
Our mousetrap
Declivities,
And molded
Crisper corners,
To our
Kitschy
Flour, Sugar and Coffee
Counter
Containers,
To the heights
Of
Our vapoured
Oil sepia
Overhead—
And even from the
Back door
Opposing your
Oscillations,
Thank you very much,
But
We are
Just cooking.

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