Soak
Hermetically sealed invisible microcosmic ocean environment
With plastic woman and Italian Pasta. Crimped:
A homely dish buried eternally with a marionette
Serves a multitude right or wrong.
Things having lives after, before and now
As at home, with a plastic egg and fake crackle
(What do you breathe in my lovelies? Out?)
As in as they are out - do you voodoo?
Just one small three hundred and sixty degree piece
Amongst the many thinking to hide behind glass
Masquerade as a centrepiece for a while
Taking notes about the inevitable panoramas we are.
A shaming device perfectly mixed and mingled?
Maybe a predictor of weather? What clocks might have been
If female emancipation had never been an issue -
A machine. That’s it. Well oiled, slick and economical.
No magic at all.
Phew….
bar the skeleton leaves' drinking apparatus
rotted to lattice.
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