Flicker light in dead of night, the candle and the grue. The click, the clack, the thunder-crack of a well-heeled shoe. A step in haste, with hand on waist, could this be very clear? The steps and cries and free-range eyes are drawing ever near. A step back, forever on track, would never take me home. I feel and kneel just at your heels that you are all alone. “What is this nonsense?” you could declare and I would feel so prudish. That you would not, shows some little care that the hour approaches soonest. A lick of rhyme could be unkind as pushing comes to shove. The harsh old words that they unearth, make up the world above. I counter-step and you correct my grace and flourish. I find my niche and so unleash a love so under-nourished. The throat of one so kind that, would I dine, I would feel still so ill. A liar and an ugly one at that. I have come to feed your cat. I step inside and try to hide the vomit on my lapel. The cat is gone, its made its home in some other stable.

-Alice