Alice, Late for Tea

Alice, Late for Tea
bijoubaby

Get the Flash Player to see this player.
audio: Alice, Late for Tea
audio of Brenda Morris's poem, Alice, Late for Tea

Re-Size Text: A A A A Comment

RSS blog print

Alice, Late for Tea

I'm trying to remember why I came—
The cups are empty and the teapot cold.
The mirror says, You have yourself to blame.
These stories call for heroes who are bold.


The cups are empty and the teapot cold,
here in the hundredth room, the one forbidden.
These stories call for heroes who are bold,
who find themselves in seeking what is hidden.


Here in the hundredth room, the one forbidden,
A bite is missing from the last confection.
To find myself in seeking what is hidden
I need a sign to show me the direction.

A bite is missing from the last confection,
jam smears the knife and prints the napkin's white—
I need a sign to show me the direction
but worry that these signs cannot be right.

Jam smears the knife and prints the napkin's white.
There was that hall as well, its focused tug.
I worry that such signs cannot be right.
Crumbs make a random pattern on the rug.

There was that narrow hall. Its focused tug
shrinks to a point behind the mirror's frame.
Crumbs make a random pattern on the rug.
I'm trying to remember why I came.