Today, Lise Quintana and Andrea Blyth explore “No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise,” by Jane Wiseman, submitted for Issue #10, Alice in Wonderland.
No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise
There was nothing on it but a tiny gold key.
To reach for it. Stretch for it.
See the time has long gone for it;
view it from underneath through thick glass;
pine for it. Through misdirection come upon it.
Try too late with it. Turn it and toy with it.
Drop it and find it and fob it and fool it.
Fool with it. Fondle it. End over end
down the endless tunnel, fall with it.
“Perhaps it hasn’t one,” Alice ventured to remark.
Tut, tut, child. Everything has a moral.
What crawls on four legs three legs two
morning noon evening. The Sphinx, they say,
in a fit of pique, threw herself onto the rocks.
The wily decoder knows it’s kind of a pun.
In the end, he is the one. Sinister songstress,
she and her riddles. There are two sisters.
One gives birth to the other. She gives birth to the first.
“Serpent!” screamed the Pigeon.
She snoops on their scurryings, alarmed
arousals. Alice, you feel very large. Alice,
what you feel for what goes on in there is large,
but what goes on in there is small. Poor Alice,
nose against the glass. Clumsy Alice, you belong
elsewhere. Alice, peer inside the little house
with your uncanny eye. All in there’s aslant,
askew, sly. Alice, go away. You bother us. Alice,
come to be with us. Alice, stay.