10:2: “Redcap Repast”, by WC Roberts

10:2: “Redcap Repast”, by WC Roberts
  Alice found a mirror on the table
  dusted with a white powder and his prints,
  things to be taken in as evidence
  of foul play, with the pearls and the sable

snatched away to the South Side to be fenced
by Dust Bunnies for quarts of Black Label
and a kitschy poster of Clark Gable
pulled off the pawnshop wall. They bet against

the Red Queen/white rabbit in a fable
gone to ground, crowned in calico and chintz
dyed red with child’s blood and subtle hints
of rosemary, a roast on the table

under a cream sauce, with garlic minced
and a Mad Hatter-shaped protuberance.

WC Roberts lives in a mobile home up on Bixby Hill, on land that was once the county dump. The only window looks out on a ragged scarecrow standing in a field of straw and dressed in his own discarded clothes. WC dreams of the desert, of finally getting his first television set, and of ravens. Above all, he writes.

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