There’s a garden among the stars
where flowers are gates to other worlds.
Try the pink rosebud that opens shyly.
plunge through its smooth and fragrant folds
into the Victorian garden where tea is laid
and sweet girls play and show a blushing priest
a bunnyhole that leads to Wonderland
and a ginger cat issues opaque directions.
Take the dare of the “Drink Me” bottle
and you’ll become inconceivably small
even faster than
a grass blade rear into a royal palm
and ants turn into six-legged horses.
You’ll grow, by diminishing, into a world
vaster than the one you knew before,
you’ll swim among stars no telescope has seen,
you’ll find light-ships among the galaxies,
immensity held in the iota of a speck
that eludes the electron microscope
but not the home-drawn voyager.
Photograph by Kirsten Love Lauzon