Down the Rabbit Hole

she thought it was simple enough

to plug in the right connectors,

each lovingly set in its place,

while the system hummed to life

it was supposed to be a gateway,

a new world opened up, glistening,

with so much more good than bad,

but stepping in was its own leap

while the motors whirred, awakened,

she set on her VR glasses for seeing

and cast off the reality she owned,

courageous with the newness of it all

a vibrant world greeted her, so green

that she could tell it was an illusion,

specs drawn from a mind—not life—

but she found herself charmed anyway

one minute bled to two to fifteen,

a half-hour gone exploring,

an hour chatting up strangers,

till bedtime was a chore to meet

her kids said she was obsessed,

and she laughed like it was a joke,

but they weren’t far off, losing

a mother to a fresh novelty

that world became her life, her feet sinking

in grasses far from real and textured,

and soon a job became too much—

until she stayed logged in at all hours

when her son came to check on her

during a breezy day in May, he found

the discarded VR glasses on the floor,

with no mother left to worry about

gone, gone, gone, gone—

like a glitch fixed in the code—

and no one ever saw her again

except in a realm on a screen