~after Sylvia Plath
I am a riddle in ten syllables,
a stubborn mule, stuck in the muck and mire.
A beanpole leaned against an old bookshelf,
scarecrow for dustmites, flannel shirt and beard.
O myopia! O pornhub starlets!
Ignored and anxious, I’m an elephant
locked in the piano playing “Hey, Jude.”
Two seconds away from losing it all,
my house, built on the dying turtle’s shell.
Tell me all roads aren’t making figure eights.