We picked em outta the ocean
black specks they were
strange seeds
from the edge of the earth
slippery, they were, and cheeky
we grasped their husks
and flipped em up
hup hup juggled them into our boats
on land they aint as nimble
and a sort of motherliness came over us
we handled them gently one to another
warm scaly eggs
crinkly and gulping in a helpless way
planted, they seemed quite at ome
in an upturned longboat filled with water
we gave em barnacles to eat
they seemed to smile at us and croak
“our favourite treat!”
day by day the cook would extract em
boiled, fried, stewed, an exotic break from salt beef
we insisted they were the greatest delicacy,
our quiet friends,
but I’ve never cared for turtle soup since.
