Alice in Wonderland Number
Falling in love
with her was
like slipping
into a rabbit hole,
spotting a few
half-eaten carrots
but no other signs
of rabbits.
A Hole in My Heart
The ants dug
a hole in the ground,
leaving a pile of dirt
at the entrance. She
bore a hole in my heart,
leaving a pile of words
at the exit. But unlike
her, they had enough
decency to cover it.
[su_panel background=”#f2f2f2″ color=”#000000″ border=”0px none #ffffff” shadow=”0px 0px 0px #ffffff”]Hal Sirowitz is the author of five collections of poetry. He has been interviewed in Riffraf Magazine, Combustible and The Writers’ Almanac Bookshelf.
