I will always be
your little girl,
for you let me be small when I need it.
As Alice when she was chasing after
the white rabbit.
But I shot my rabbit
many years ago.
And I follow the tracks that have dried in
under the carpet,
follow the smell of sulphur,
and fall down on my knees
with the face pointing up against the stars
and feel the scent blood.
The blood that followed the natural sequence of events
from the skin and
away from the future.
I ate the cakes
which made me grow,
I followed the path that led me
to forget
the white fur, which spann
to gold between my fingers.
So I will let you make
me small again,
so I can crawl inside my wonderland
and bury the gun
among the flowers by a animaltomb
and ley down on a plaid
of rabbitskin, Daddy.