Down the Rabbit Hole.

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It was originally called “Alice’s Hour in Elfland,”

And I can understand why they changed that.

Mad hats off to those who

twist the tight, White tails of their Titles.

Shuffle their syllables

Get rid of all pronouns

Found letters sewn into gowns and monogrammed cloaks

THat fit them better.

Here’s to the Dodo,

Not Dormouse,

Late night croquet ground creatives!

Pigeon eyeing up cupcakes on tables,

Ably playing with words,

To the beat

to the beat

to the beat

March Hare.

Folding their fable under fabric footsteps,

Yes!

It was only meant to be an hour…

A painted Queen of Hearts falls from her

Powerful, padded seat.

The bottle says, “DRINK ME”

Adrift in a sea of salty…

sober…

tears.

Prepares evidence in the form of

/beheaded/peppered/poetry…/

Eat tarts of mushroom,

A Duchess with chalice,

Sees Alice…

A Sceptre,

A Crown.

Down the Rabbit hole and through the Looking Glass,

“Off with Her head!”

She said to the reflection of her arse.

Passes beneath grinning shoulders,

Under lonely Cat girl literature laden shelves…

She’s small,

Like Elves…

But looks Wonderful in a waistcoat.

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