Alice, Rising
Jaberwokky, I want to lick your teeth,
sharp mother of pearl,
shuck your jaw,
dig for your pearl with my tongue,
push your serpentine muscle
to the side and find the seed
made by nursing friction.
I want to handcuff your claws to a pipe,
watch you snatch air
your wide red eye flare as you thrash,
trying to inflict scars
with your shadows.
I want to get a tattoo that says Jaberwokky Slayer
with a skull clamping a vorpal sword
in its wide grin
and have men turn and ask
who s the badass in the blue dress?
I am the girl
on the other side of the mirror,
and I am not afraid of you.
Children of Wonderland
Walrus and Carpenter,
where did you put the shoes?
the tiny clam shoes that scuttled
to follow you from the beach,
did you bury them in the sand
with the shells of their bodies,
or leave their hinges broken,
the two halves like open gray
mouths gaping at the blue sky.
Duchess, how many times
did you black pepper your baby,
tip the shaker to its up-turned nose,
violently nursing its tiny fists
into hooves that beat the air with each sneeze,
waiting for the chance to run and find
how safe the world would be on four legs.
Queen of Hearts, why did
you so admire the head of Alice
that you had to have it for yourself?
or was it the bottom half you wanted,
the three-dimensional skirt, flutter
of slip, rustle of apron that caught
your eye, a full body in a house of cards
you needed to paint like roses and see
how many colors she could bloom.
After Making Love to Dinah
the Cheshire cat stretched
and yowled, swished his thick
tail and pranced to the door,
Dinah looked up from licking
her fur and asked Where are
you going, Cheshy, my dear?
He said Back into wonder,
grinned and disappeared.
Traci is a native Minnesotan who now
lives and writes in New York City.
She is studying at Sarah Lawrence College for her MFA in Poetry.
Her work has recently
appeared in a-pos-tro-phe, Kaleidowhirl and Tattoo Highway.