Ensalada Fresca

This is the result of a "check all the boxes" assignment in a Contemporary Pop Culture in Modern Poetry course I took to fulfill an English Arts elective. I did exactly that and got my 100% grade. I haven't yet decided how I want to edit this - or if I just want to leave it as clunky as it is. Either way, it was too fun not to share with the world.


A man's most prized appendage is a turtle head.
Cowled and collapsed at rest, snuggled in skin sleeping soundly,
visions of shelled dreams dance behind drooped lids.
Upon waking, a ravenous hunger takes hold, and with
tiny peanut brain, takes control of the entire male being.
Perked up, neck stretched straight and stiff,
it leads and guides, a divining rod for satisfaction,
bobbing and weaving, drunkenly staggering, to and fro,
finally fixating on the intoxicating sweet crisp scent of velvet greenery.
Cloying honey drenched tongue's memory,
Drool drips in anticipation,
                                        I licked it, so it's mine!
Echoing sound waves of Lyn's favorite statement surface
(she will get to say it next time, he promises)
and vibrate like a shiver over flesh, amplifying
appetite cravings to that of Thespiae's Colossal Eros.
Parting the leaves, the turtle burrows into the penetralia of the lettuce
seeking the treasure trove of heart, deep within the primal core.
Guttural grunts mingle with passionate moans as pleasure, mounts.
Falling, face first, into a dish, like creamed pie, has never been so grand!
The turtle's Adam's apple pulses, with desire, sated. Fed and full,
chin rests on pillow as slumber takes hold.