On Any Day Like Alice

No reason to think it wouldn’t happen,
then it did. Fault of a loose bootlace
and slipping, her hands’ flames
groping for solid ground. Free-fall.
Swirling vertigo of tree roots, beetles,
of green tarantula nests stranded,
catching hold of her hair, its cascading
arpeggios. Paisley blouse opening,
the fission of buttoned eyes. To fall
and fall and fall, tug of thick silt, layers
of iron pudding heaving as she hurled
towards the heart. Escape velocity,
imploded planet—mother open,
swallowing the blue pill of her body.
Day, a smoldering crack barely visible
overhead, an angel dissolving. She crossed
herself mid-flight and fell, far
from the known address, everything
until then that held her to its surface.




Copyright the author(s) ©2007–2014