Rebecca Heselton

A Most Peculiar Flower

Mostly Alice slept through the downwards tumbled hole

Though past the glass the chequered night gave solace to her soul

Writing in a watching part, grown too big to dream

The beggar girl shut birds in desks, still running as it seemed.

Uncarved, unplanned, beamish prose left the oyster shells

And snicker-snack! Swept clean the beach so Nobody could tell

What the gnat had really said flying through the air

Now unseen she crossed the bridge and watered six more squares

While his own invention holds her crowning glory

She kept the book but not the look dying in the story.

Curiously enough, the timing was exact –

Departing white from wordy books and tea-filled hairy hats

‘Poor girl,’ said the Queen, ‘but how wonderfully you played’

As Wonderland her wonder brought a cat-smile yet to fade.