a poem by Dale Costello, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

We weren’t born..
to be chess pieces
be they bishop, queen or pawn
story plotted in the lines
you could read from our faces when we're gone
maybe to become caterpillars
in some post Kafka morgue or garden
a pun I hope you’ll pardon
if it in fact exists..

Alice came
took me away
follows a talking clock
is meticulously having its say
would you like some coffee with that sugar?
like a last word from a beggar
she whispers again
I’ll carry you home sundown
and leave you with a kiss..

Sweet sweet Alice
innocent of world and wordy palace
asked, did you ever catch that rabbit?
said.. examine
the perfect mathematics
of its eyes and soul
the depths of its hole
the precious minutes of its eternity
space.. made poetry

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