The Maze and the Madness
i leapt through the looking glass with
a moon-rimmed lens of magenta to show
me how the streets of wonderland
unfold in a different spectrum. the queen of hearts
told us to get lost but we were trapped in
the hexagons of her palace walls hooked
together like vertigo vision. you couldn't stand
the strange logic, but i told you
it was built like a diamond and that's why
starlight was split into a thousand
lovely delusions. your eyes, in cobalt
glasses, locked onto the pattern, unhinged
the geometry and we found a sequence in
the streets to lead us back (you called it
beautiful, that unending spiral of shapes we
walked and its algebra—we didn't know
if we were reading it right to left or the other).
the flowers chanted as we dashed by, voices
dimming as night tumbled through
the prism of the sky and lulled us all
to sleep in its heart-breaking resplendence.
we found the rabbit hole, but ducked
from the light; you wanted to kiss
me in the dark. i don't want to wake up.