A visit from the walrus, for Julianne

Swept from half-awake-land
by a tempest of pages ripped from storybooks,
She toss’t and tumble’t down,
down.

The tiara danced out of reach,
regal it shone,
taunting.

A land beyond lands was once hers

felt solid to the sole, but
sucked her down
down
like spun-sugar gravy,
sicky sweet.

A cry, a grasp
and the hero came to weigh her up.
“Speak to me of princess things!”
she beseeched
and he replied,
“I will tell a tale
of you, and you alone.”

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