Alice

It was many months ago the opening words of this poem first unfolded themselves in my mind. I was hiking and happened upon a spot that seemed as perfectly suited for a Mad Tea Party as it was a quiet place for a young girl to rest her head and dream. I was in a rather dark state of mind at the time. It was right after my July trip home and I was missing Alaska with an almost desperate madness. I took hold of that feeling and wove it into this poem, bolstering it with visions I'd gained after reading the truly terrifying 'Alice'; a novel by Christina Henry. The story is a masterful retelling of Lewis Carroll's tale, but definitely not one meant for a child's ears. I will never again think of the character of Walrus without shuddering in horror.

By the time my deep sadness passed on I'd become too attached to these words to abandon them. The poem's seen many revisions and likely will receive more in the future. For now though I feel the need to move on, and so have decided to share.

I sit at the spot Alice once fell,

from deepest dreams into darkest hell.

A place simple tears transformed to ocean screams,

and death-vined roses bowed to the Mad Queen.

 

Trembling with terror, Alice twisted and fled,

but night's velvet wings soon entangled each step

Walrus inched closer, tusks dripping with wine

Rabbit's red grin whispered slowly "It's Time"

 

I sit at the spot where once Alice dreamed,
inside a world of the darkest means.
She would have escaped but for that skeleton grin,
which then disappeared slowly, never seen again.

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