Tattered

Her fingers are blue

Quietly working around the lace 

On her dress 

Tattered

Battered and sore

We are running in a spiral

Chasing saints

On shopping lists made out of prayer cards

The jays weigh down the branches

Keep the tree from falling over

So very tired

Dreaming of ropes

Singing

Calculating sums as we walk

It always turns into nothing

She sniffs

The air is a calendar of daffodils

Woven and fresh

Ready to jump

She squeals

Skip

Splash

Burn

I keep my head down

Watch my feet

The longing inside too heavy to bear

We must settle with what is

She says

Silently gathering apples from the fridge

I scratch my skin away

Pray

My fingers are blue

Cold

Lifeless

Quietly working around the lace of our being.

Pretty

The stone wears a hole in my shoe

Look

The grains of sand are wearing thin

Like summer 

My shoes are still pretty

She clicks and giggles

Her tiny heels 

A rebel 

In the wrong song 

One 

Two 

Three 

Times

She chimes 

Clunk

Click

Pluck

We are stuck on this shelf

Hiding from the sun

It burns

Along with the powder and glue

I’m far too old to be rebellious says Alice

Winking

She is one hundred and fifty eight

Eight if you discount the one hundred years of nothing 

Waiting at the bottom of the hole

I have to leave you now Alice

I need to find my name

Do you know what it is

Alice shakes her head 

How can I remember

I barely knew real

Before 

The shade fell

The stone wears a hole in my shoe

Look 

I am still pretty.

Chime

The birds tap on the window

Candy dropping 

Like moon beams

From their beaks 

We seldom go out

Spend our days dreaming of peacetime

Stuck firm in the war

Midnight sneaking in

Behind the blinds

The air is cool she says 

Watching the wind lilt back and forth

Like kisses on a window pane 

We are rotting away softly

Two maidens 

Bastard children

Who never hit the bottom when we fall

You will she says

Laughing as the cat chimes twice

It’s all about waiting 

About listening to the wind

Deciding if you are naughty 

Or nice

Time really is an old bugger

I chew the ice

Wait and wait

I can’t wait any more. 

Push

We meander through the patterns on the ceiling

Look she says 

Swirling up a mixture of powder and tea

If you believe enough 

You can find your name at the bottom of the tin

We are in the stone walled house

Wiping holy water off our chin

She giggles

I look at the blank page

It is heavy and thick

Certain 

Like the white glove and quill

Kept safely behind the glass 

Waiting for a name to fill the space

What will yours be 

I know I am Alice

I don’t think you know where to begin

She gives me a push

We fall down

Cupcakes

Rainbow drops

Flowers

All churn in the pit of my stomach

The belief in something new and different makes me very sick indeed

You oaf she says

That is exactly the place where you need to begin

I meander through the patterns on the ceiling

Swirling up a mixture of powder and tea

Waiting for the day on which to begin

Shh she says 

Don’t you know it’s already here.

Breeze

We lie on the kitchen floor

Looking for patterns in the breeze

Listen she says

Scraping the stones from under her nails

I think we have reached an end 

Hit a barrier

All things considered

You really are insane

Mad as Hatter

Stuck like me

It is time to try

To turn 

Pack your trunk 

Wake up

Say goodbye 

Make the call

I change the settings on the clock

All the products and devices 

Will never make time go quicker 

The powder sits on my tongue

It has a taste I cannot name

Familiar 

Similar

A sign I should follow

But can’t

I lie on the kitchen floor

Looking for patterns in the breeze.

Radio

The radio jabbers 

In the background

That's funny Alice giggles

Like a friend lingering in the door frame

Not knowing what to do

Or say

We try to make the moment last

There is no sense of self left to believe in

Just a sprinkle of unknown words on old brown spines

Decaying on a bookshelf

Crash 

Bang

Crack 

We split in the night

Like atoms 

Cherry stars

Resting on barstools 

Glasses warm

Empty

I tie our hair back 

My hands shake

Trying to leave the house is impossible

There has to be a better way 

To make sense of all the broken spines

The letters dry out in the sun

Crisp

Dead as bones

Earphones wedged in our ears

Voices still loud

Head so full

I dream of empty tram lines 

Maps charts and bars

Trains empty 

Stars she says

Lips crusted and sore  

As the light fades away.

Noon

We sit on our noon stone

Winding time by its handle

Quietly waiting to recall

The scene played out before us 

Alice rubs her elbow

It is hot and cold 

She moans

The pain makes it

Far too hard to undo what was

She grins 

You think faster than Rabbit

And that cursed hole

I pant in the half light of our desert shell

Desperate for air and water

Hatter plays the flute

It chirrups like birds

Candy floss tangled in our hair 

A can full of wonder

And confusion

Shh, says Alice

Face falling slack 

If we wait quietly 

The beginning may come back

The moon drops off the spoon

Slow honey on warm toast

Really quite beautiful 

A vent to reach out to

A glimmer of light

A single chance 

To wish I could 

Alice smiles a trim line 

A silent cheer 

Strapped to her face with glue

I sit on our noon stone

Winding time by its handle

Quietly waiting to understand.