Castration Quadrille
Triangle of orange tongued
turtle’s open mouth snapping,
Thick neck’s strands like those raised on
humans under pressure,
The hackles and two tiny flat nostrils
and triangle eyes squeeze out
a timid sound:
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you
Won’t you join the retreat?
The lobsters eagerly advance;
the mock turtle eagerly retreats.
The turtle is thick in his shell. Soup dribbles
from the sides of his sharp mouth.
There is another shore,
which pulls up snug under the blanket of your abdomen.
The turtle, snuck up inside like buds retreating
back under, the tendrils furling
petals curling and sinking,
He slinks inside his skin,
up under your
turtle shell flesh. The further off from
the nearer is to.
