you’re (ii)

by ty

written after Sylvia Plath’s You’re, in an assignment.

Redolent, loudest on your fingers,
Feet to the ceiling, and tea-stained,
Glazed like a doughnut. a common-sense
Lift-down with glass innards.
Folded up in yourself like chinos.
Trapping your knees as mirrors do.
Mute as a doll soaked in lemon
Scents to a Bohemian Rhapsody.
O high-riser, my little rush.

Soft like crabs and looked for like shells
Farther off than newspapers.
Cold-pressed juice, our swelling lime.
Snug as a rug and at home
Like a cube in a conical flask.
A slip of discs, all film.
Feisty as a Carved Durian.
Right, like a well-done steak.
A clean plate, with a face on.

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