Cordon Blur

Some flour,
self raising,
for hours spent with knees bent
praising
Two eggs
for the legs
that sit up and beg for dregs
Butter
for demands
and commands
for sticks fetched
Some sugar
to bugger up
charity muggers
A bowl
or a basin
for mixing vile tricks in
A spoon,
wooden,
for stirring blurred lines
An oven
gas mark five
burns choices once alive
And icing
piped
white from a sack
like the stripe
we can see
quite clearly on your back
It's a list
of ingredients you see,
for a cake
of obediency