Ashes

The flowers in our mouth turn to ashes
Sweet poppies
And dried chrysanthemums
Perhaps if we swallow them
They will bloom
A sweet salve in our gullet
Our throat is dry
We drink water in the afternoon
Make the garden grow
Feel the petals and stems
Absorb the colours
And the prickles
It is a dangerous dance
One we have played many times before
One we wish we did not have to dance again
The Red Queen touches my shoulder
I tell her a bit of my story
She already knows it
She has felt it too
Her face is white as linen
Her lips red
And her eyes are bright blue
We are thankful it is not raining
Although rain would make the flowers grow
Alice giggles
We will savour the flowers
Become intoxicated
Sleep away the drowsy
Ash turns to flowers
Flowers turn to juice
We are full up
Ready to flower and bloom.