"Field Trip" by Rebecca Dedlock

Tiny triangle swam in my mouth,
Sailing in saliva like a lost boat.
I remember the doldrum car ride now
With Miss Anorexia and Sir Law.
She was driving the little red car
While he babbled by her side,
Hand-feeding her his ego.
“You're an Auschwitz petting-zoo.” I thought.
I was just in there for the ride.
At the hill-top I ran away and
With three crisp bills
Held together with a pink plastic clip,
The tiny paper dissolved in my mouth
Sweating visions into my tongue.

I sat cross-legged amongst strangers, waiting with them for the sun.

It came.
And I sailed on electric grass,
Texture shifting from smooth glass
To fur, that waved like oceans,
Saying hello.
“Little Alice,” someone said, “there is strange fruit
At your feet.”
Beer of berries down my arms
And I lapped it with my tongue.
Tree sap for the brain,
To season the reason
Of why I choose treason:
This madness over the sane.

And it came
And it came
And it came

For seven hours I sat,
Pupils like Colombian coffee cups swallowing the world,
And I thought that maybe mountains always breathe
Like old gods, and I had not noticed.