I am Nigella Lawson
(After reading How to be a Domestic Goddess)
Follow the trail of the eyebright mango,
wind along their shapes to me.
Pick up the pieces one by one,
let them lead you to the kitchen, to me.
I promise you will love the feel of the spoon
in your hand,
its rounded back like the cheek of the moon.
Come, follow the beating wings of light
that whorl from a pot of boiling lemons.
Come quick and close the door.
You alone will be with the browning pheasant,
slowly turning on its spit like an old song.
You will paint with juices redolent of honey,
cumin and thyme.
Come, loosen your buttons,
Feel the heat of the clay oven on your bare legs.
Give into ripeness.
Sway your hips.
Stir the sizzling garlic and sweet red onion
with your whole body.