Sizzling Slates Poem by John Sensele

Hunger is that heinous hyena
That gnaws at the navel
When taste buds long for dinner
And like judges in a culinary kitchen hammer a gavel

On a chopping chair chosen
With sirloin, fillet, mutton and venison
When bucks in a wallet frozen
In a ridge and a fridge in unison

Resist Pavlov's plan to prove
Right a gourmet's gluttony and gastric garlic
In a fit of fragrance and aroma that move
A motion to praise celery and tumeric

That alongside other condiments
Promise to titillate palates
That salivate while conveying compliments
To chefs and sous chefs who ready tables for tasters to sample meals from sizzling slates.