Alice tilts her head
Leans into the static
Which has haunted us
For so many days
We are on the floor
Lavender wrapped around our neck
So tired not even the powder can seduce us
And yet we inhale
Deep breaths of longing and loss
How quickly time fades
Trickles like a burn
From the palm of our hand
That’s where all good stories begin
She wraps her sticky fingers in mine
I don’t have a life line
I think I will be stuck like this forever
Nothing urgent to be seen to
Nothing worth raising my head
The sweat of newsprint on cold food
Hard to swallow
We are always being watched
We force our eyes shut
Press the lids into the sockets of our skull
Try to remember what electricity tastes like
Shh, I whisper as we make birds swim across the screen
When the time is right
We will let the world in.
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Illustration - Tove Jansson
