Alice’s door


a teapot’s silvery curves

our world reflected in its polished cheek


so how to sneak through


how to spread ourselves thin

avoid the taint of patina


and what will be left behind

traces of temper   a coloured stain on the cloth


a cup of cooling tea




we perch at the limits

of the earth’s unstable core


breathe in the verdigris of  prejudice

trip over rhetoric   are laid out like cards


on a glass table

no-one has yet seen through




almost out of reach

a door handle speaks

makes plain its enduring message   


on tiptoe we go

not even sure of slipping through unscathed





shrinkand grow

shrinkand grow

this is the way our fantasies go…



© Genista Lewes     from ‘Cat’s Cradle’