We’re All Mad Here

by Marisca Pichette

Why did Alice cross the street?

Broken teacups in her wake,

baby blue dress torn

cesarian scars,

red light puddles looking

like rabbit holes to nowhere.

 

Punchline: she crossed to stop herself

from running, she crossed

to hide her tears

(cry an ocean to drown in);

she crossed hoping

none would follow.

 

Late, Alice.

Later than law allows.

Later than blood spotting

cramped relief

            —click button, red

            monthly lucky at last,

            just a week, not

            39.1—her life.

 

Cross, Alice! Turn around

check for cards (suits),

[foot][men], heels hot—

 

did you smile as you fell?

 

Or did you scream—

not afraid (always)

not powerless (nearly)

covering up your youth

with the only mask you

have left.

 

Welcome to Wonderland, final girl.

White dress red

door too small—

squeeze your assets through

& join us in acrylic

splendor.

 

Don’t smile,

don’t cry salt to sting

your wounds

—they belong up there, not here—

here, nothing but the impossible

may break.

 

Sit with us & know:

we’re all mad here.

 

Roses waft rage,

rabbits refuse

to die.

 

Look in the teapot & find

gin & espresso, tamper-free.

Check under your chair,

dear Alice

& heft the weapons we left you—

 

distaff (iron, red)

musket (saltpeter, sobbed)

handbag (laden, righteous)

sword (light as lashes)

 

Alice of the night,

Alice refusing to break

no matter how many times

you fall

 

you hold growth in your left hand

—the only half of the cake you thought

to keep—

 

and in your right:

you’re mad as hatters,

mad as a rabbit before

the test,

mad as they never meant

to make you.

 

Cross back, Alice.

Look back,

see the punchline now:

 

Street’s full, not empty.

Skirts mop puddles

into stepping-stones.

 

And you climb, Alice,

you climb out of a grave

evading all the hearts who tried

to paint you, label you red

when your color longed

to bleed.

 

Mad you go, mad you leave us

gossamer gorgeous ghosts.

 

Mad you grow,

standing your ground

planting defiant feet

on ground we never left

unsown.

 

Marisca Pichette is a queer author based in Massachusetts. More of her work appears in Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, Vastarien, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Fantasy Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, and others. Her Bram Stoker and Elgin Award-nominated poetry collection, Rivers in Your Skin, Sirens in Your Hair, is out now from Android Press. Find them on Twitter as @MariscaPichette, Instagram as @marisca_write, and Bluesky as @marisca.bsky.social.

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