Time Turns Into Treacle Poem by Margaret Alice

24 November 2008

When inactivity forces one to live in the head,
when all has been done and said, when there
is need for change of scene but no power to
bring it about, no more movies running in my
head, no more memories, no more dreams

Enclosed within reality without meditation to
help me through this boring spell of general
chaos, hammering and noisy air-cons, I had
my illegal sweet treat, now time to pay-up;
holding my head upright while falling asleep

The flow of time turns into molasses and treacle,
my mind seeking fun in the scene in Maskerade *
Agnes to sing Questa maledetta like Christine –
Kwesta! ? Maledetta! ! – in her own soprano it
sounds magnificent

But Christine’s good grasp of wearing a dress
makes her the winner of the contest, laughter
with a tear for Agnes; talent scorned in favour
of Christine’s star quality, a twinkling
appearance…

Terry Pratchett “Maskerade”, p.101