Stella Wulf




Smoke & Mirrors

Alice finds it curious that her friends are hell bent
on contortion, their minds and bodies unhinged
by perception, dislocated by notions of perfection.

They slip easily into the illusion, strings attached
to riggings of fancy, pipe dream masts, waiting
to be pulled by the model makers.

They’re as whittled as sticks, living on treacle,
drained from the well of Selfiedom. Cheese splits
too wide a grin; they shape their lips to Moo.

Like her they yearn for cakes marked EAT ME,
gorge like caterpillars until they’re full of remorse,
stomachs like lead balloons. There’s a Wonderland

beyond the glass, but they’re trapped in the gloss
of pose, seduced by tricks. Alice watches them
finger-lick-flick; sees white rabbits at every turn,

flimflam promises, useless as ships in bottles,
paper chains of Tweedledums and Tweedledees,
made bland by the wave of an airbrush wand.

Alice tells them it’s all hookah and looking glass,
they may hanker for longer legs, but they can’t find themselves
in another’s face. It’s a long fall down that passage,

she should know. Being big makes her feel small,
when she feels small she eats. She often asks herself,
who am I, what do I want to be? Hopes, one day, for the answer

to be, ME.





Stella Wulf’s poems are widely published and appear in several anthologies including, The Very Best of 52, three drops, Clear Poetry, and #MeToo. Her pamphlet, After Eden, was published by 4word in May 2018.

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