The hour when the dead remember.
Memories lick themselves clean.
Bones resume their click-clicking.
Desire wraps itself in its velvet tail.

The wormhole opens in a minor key.
I wear my blue apron and sensible shoes,
my blond hair cosseted by a black ribbon.
Mother putters in the kitchen I think.

Father misses my birthday again riveted.
Nurse has gone flying, hands over eyes.
Reggie is sunken in his bed, hunkered
on the side of the road, a night squatter. 

The white rabbit, tripping over the alarm.
The Red Queen has grown old clutching the vial 
with the poison; the room grows and shrinks.
I look through the keyhole – drink me.

Nana is a puppy once more flouncing.
We play gin rummy, me and Huckleberry.
He cheats openly but I forgive him.
Tomorrow the Mad Cow returns alas!

Mister Bones is out of joint on the sofa.
My Reggie removes his shirt, nestles
under the covers, entering with tail
wrapped in velvet, the wormhole closing.