pages 43- 47

When Alice was
a tea-pot,
she poured.
Pour pour Alice.

Hot tears
Over a hot face
Soaked up by
the white linen
tablecloth

Sometimes Alice
Would sit and look at each stain
Remembering each
Tear-soaked afternoon.


Puffed sleeves never helped anyone work out what to make 856 children for tea. Tuna mornay again?


And the moral of that is . . . .
Always get take-away!
The duchess always kept a sea of remarks up her sleeves.


In the garden Alice met Sinthea who was looking quite perky with matching twin daughter (all three were matching). Alice had tried for a pair of those and had been rewarded with a pair of unmatching guinea pigs.
Alice knew by Sinthea’s beautiful smile that
Alice looked to Sinthea like the tart that
Alice had always wanted to be.


“It was lovely to see you,” lied Sinthea. They swapped addresses, they would never use, but would leave regretfully folded up in the bottoms of their handbags to torment their consciences for years afterwards.
(Alice and Sinthea were peas in a pod)