Ophelia’s Wikipedia Lookbook in Three Glances

How you begin sitting, flowered,

hands to your hair like a Loréal ad,

poppied, daisied, grey dress creased

before a zigzag of lily pads.

 

Of a sudden blonde, in blue and pink

under willow fuzzed dusty, spot-lit.

You’re sat on the surface like it’s

an ice chaise longue. Not convinced.

 

Last the grey under your jaw tells

how greenly keenly cold it is. What the hell

Hamlet/Everett, let me out. Skirt swells,

then oddly flattens to hold more petals.

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