Her name is Alice: She is her Wonderland

A poverty of toys enriches the imagination

Of a young child on Camden Street

Her Promethean eye that grows

Into stories, into character’s heartbeats;

She sees the realms of angelic demons 

She sees the clans of the Seraphim

She acts out ancient Peloponnese wars;

In chalk upon a footpath, she bonds epistles

She writes of Cleopatra’s love for herself

She draws the patterns of wind fled sands 

And sees cool light in the Hazards of Hell

She sees her absent father walk behind

With a featureless toy from a $2 shop

Stripping imagination from her mind.

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