in "Silent Disco": "The look on her face is filling the room./Someone else would describe it as joyful,/only to you it is space she is taking/and you will never have seen her so clearly,/so within, she forgets herself as seen./She is pure direction, she is line and ring." In both poems "you" is something more than the familiar demotic replacement for "one": it is the observer, not the observed, who is incomplete.
from The Guardian: The Casual Perfect by Lavinia Greenlaw--review
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