Supine, summertime, beneath an oil brushed
swan, eye flickers syncopate with her husband’s
yawns. Gone away with a serotonin rush
she shrinks just enough for Wonderland.
Though feet won’t touch Persian carpets on her
way there, she ties a black ribbon in
silver hair which yellows when the purrs
of a pink pussycat beckon within
the lost habitat. Here she endures as
her truest self, without decrepit bones
deteriorating health. Surpasses
the hare on her way to tea, she moans
beneath mushrooms so the centipedes see
how she has grown up with this fantasy.