a poem in response to this prompt by Harper Thorpe for Chalkboard

Alice — image source

My rabbit hole runs far deeper than a sky blue dress
unraveling slowly, just in time
over this white sash of a mess,
condensed clouds boil over a steaming cup 
of tea, tick
poured from a broken teapot that holds
more shards than you could previously see, tock
sipped with a man who speaks in rhymes about you— 
and is almost saner than the twins, tick
who brought me here by chance to view, tock
and if it weren’t for that thick caterpillar 
I’d have forgotten 
your name
long before now, tick
but the rabbit the rabbit the rabbit, tock
he hops in front of me, all ups & downs
using the Queen’s head, tick
as center of a pleasant rose arrangement, tock
while the fat cat who will not be tamed
laughs and laughs all the same,
’til my doll grows big enough 
to fit into every game,
we drink once more
and begin,
small again

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