You're. (poem after You're, Sylvia Plath)

You’re

Pie-faced, smiley like the sunshine,
Cotton wool hair, that’s fragrant,
My pot-bellied dwarf. Thick thighs like
water balloons fit to burst.
Stumbling, head down as you canter,
A giggling cartoon racehorse. 
Like a midnight banshee you sing
A song of vowels soprano,
Summoning me to rock a bye. 

Two foot diva, a mini-me.
My wee toothless gummy bear.
Wet food buff, my impressionist .
Kissing machine you stamp me
with saliva marking what’s yours.
A branch on my tree, new bud.
Made by me, the best bits of me.
And some more of your own.
An equation supreme, that’s you.

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