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                                                Mad Hatter
                                            by Nichole Grabe

He got a new pair of shoes with an inside of glass,
So he could break in his future painfully
And in that way let go of the past in less time.

Sitting at a mass grave of a dining hall he sighed,
And wondered why the tea party ended
Why the teamouse died and his cohorts disbanded.

He ate stale scones to pass the moldy, long days,
So again the shoes would expand and begin to feel real,
With the deep, scaring bites of finished relationships.

The Mad Hatter has a crook in his nimble hands,
And sits and tells silly tales to the air that seem myth,
Now, person fragments now, you are invited to sit in.

He tells you to get new shoes for he does too,
And a lovely, plumed hat for your unstable head,
So that from upper, from lower the ideas will sink in.

Until all the time in the world has adjusted to you,
Then we can walk with ease
He says that is the best way, the way of nature, to forget.

But forward forget no one, that is the way to be born,
The clouds are waves again, see them in the sky,
And if you can see the stars are out at noon all is done.

He lets go of your hand, gives you the prettiest rose and 
Loves-you-not.  He leaves on a horse made of silk,
And cheese, blood, left of the once feet.

Dirt was seen in a rainbow today, the shoes you have are
Worn in.  You knew the day was coming, you know it should
Be madness, but the shoes are there and do not hurt at all.


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Mad Hatter is copyright 1997 by Nichole Grabe