by Kenton K. Yee
after Charles Simic
These things must have been invented
by a starving thinker:
how they resemble his long flamingo legs
as he straddles the library urinal.
As you work them in your hand,
fishing the soup for flesh,
you can see him thinking: forehead
fierce and furrowed like your knuckles,
torso bulbous, moist, and pink.
Kenton K. Yee recently placed poetry in Rattle, Plume Poetry, The Threepenny Review, Sugar House Review, Stanford’s Mantis, The Indianapolis Review, Constellations, Berkeley Poetry Review, and Pembroke Magazine, among others. An Iowa Summer Poetry Workshop alumnus, he writes from Northern California.
Hawaii Pacific Review 