...................................................................................................

abstraction

it was thanks to alice's own delay and terrible muttering
that the beast was found, trampled, rumbling deeply somewhere
behind the curtains, while the visitors yawned
ready and cold, that pink tricking thing
(a rocket!
quick! meet the tread of this story!)
she was - alice, that is - jutting the small leaves off its shouders
three earnest ornaments, measured by a grand dripping summer
- it's still possible to feel cold in a hot land

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