A Poem a Day (564): Down the rabbit hole

This poem was written in September 2019, but never published online. I just found it wandering through... Alice and the White Rabbit...

Down the rabbit hole

Mary 4 Jack forever, kiss-kiss,
Ian woz here, Lucy heart Dave,
Jane is a user and she’s going down.
 
So the graffiti bog sings…
 
It’s a little thing,
what are you thinking?
I’m writing.
It’s a little thing.
I’m listening
 
Rabbit 1: Come on, you could sort her out.
Rabbit 2: …
Rabbit 1: She’d be ugly then, ha ha.
Rabbit 3: Well, maybe just break her arm!
 
It’s a little thing,
'Death and the maiden’,
so it goes.
Have you read it?

I’m listening –
Frasier?
The doctor isn’t in the house,
so who’s listening?

He spins riddles out of pools of shit
in this white-tiled house.
Windows are eyes.
 
Is it a little thing?
He’s ex-military;
he can take care of himself.
 
Rabbit 4: I was told to stay away.
 
The maiden’s sinking into time.
 
Who is throwing daggers at closed doors?
Where does the missionary sing?
But it’s a little thing.
 
Rabbit 5: He wanted to knee-cap her.
Rabbit 6: He wanted it to look like an accident.
Rabbit 7: Or a mugging.
Rabbit 8: She could be paralysed.
 
It’s an invisible thing,
this thread,
spiralling,
dragging everything with it.
 
A simply crazy thing to do,
walking bridges in collapse.
 
The Tower brings a warning,
blazing all to the ground.
 
Talk in echoes, shadow silence.

The mud is sinking,
pus is rising,
the cistern overflows.

The white room closes in,
a code of silence obliterated.

Sliding doors,
hours
to
crawl,
caressed by claws.
 
We reimagine,
imagine
a freefalling thing,
but then it's real.
 
Julie loves Jason, Yvonne woz here,
Mark wets the bed, Lisa is a go-er.
 
So the graffiti bog sings…
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 15, 2019