Alice, Your Dress Has Me Now
I'm not lost in your taffeta yet,
but I feel with time you will smother me
like a bug; toadstool hopper I'm not--
you cannot listen to reason when smoke
plumes air, or cross boundaries with a cat--
it just doesn't happen
poor Alice,
my tongue is not drinking you just yet,
but when it does it will be a mataphor
for ungraspable events
we spend giving in to crumb cakes,
desires, our own fixed Chesire smiles--
and with teeth, blur lines of sanity
and play.
DON'T DRINK
It's a liquor most intoxicating
you can't escape, but be still
the Queen sits marking your breath
in chicken scratches and a friendly game
of croquet
in which heads will roll sugar plums,
kiss the ground you tread--
death is not an option, don't drink
until you've fed.
EAT
It's a play on vanity
when you say you'll have
just
one
more
bite.
Matina L. Stamatakis currently resides in upstate New York, and is editor
of the e-poetry/art collective Venereal Kittens. She has had works
featured in various online and print magazines. Her most recent poems have
appeared in: Coupremine, Melancholia's Tremulous Dreadlocks,
and Listenlight.