The Way through Walls; or, Brick Doors, Alaina Doyle

She was a child.
she drew doors on walls
                               and knocked.


she is a woman.
she presses her dream-like doors against life-life walls
                                                                and builds fantasies,


in secret,
like little ticking time-bombs
                                          brimming with their alchemical concoctions.


but she’s no chemist
and doesn’t believe in magic.



She hated dolls.


now she paints her doll-like face
                                          and plays dress-up
with her friends,
                   cardboard cutouts.


She dreamed of funny men and blue boxes and letters brought by owl.


now she plays doctor and magician
but knows these potions blow portholes to nowhere.


                                          She played games

can’t stop.


                   she watched.


                                          She floats on decaying particles
                                                     of a green glass sea.