cornelius's ode to tryptophan

"And turkey carcass, never flitting, still is ziplocked, still is sitting

On the frigid shelf a freezing just above my ice makor;

And his cold bones has the seeming of a future meant for steaming.

Hints of hot broth o'er him streaming beckons soup in De-cembor;

And my soul from out that vision that slumbers on the kitchen floor;

Shall be lifted—nevermore."

(with apologies to Mr. Poe)