I Tripped On My Shoelace Down A Starless Hole

I tripped on my shoelace down a starless hole

where the Red Queen rose like bread overnight

where we never stopped painting the blue sky brown;

the green earth, raveled

in a dream

I followed the followers Down

you forgot your sweater, Grandmother cried

from the pink brick house;

my grandfather died;

rising like bread, overnight-
into the winnowing heights.

but mirrors are all alike here.

and I am sleeveless  in a sleeved charm

where the swans still return at sunset

interrupted like a dream

and the poem will ravel

mary angela douglas 18 july 2013