Mcgonagall For Succour 6.5.2008 Poem by Margaret Alice

I have reached the threshold of my attention span,
which is probably less than that of the average six-
year-old, I’m bored in my office and the documents
loom large and threatening

I’m buried under an avalanche of boring sentences
and sitting quietly is not possible; how DO most
people manage to create the impression of
working all day -

How DO my colleagues manage to produce completed
translations this way? I feel like climbing the walls
in frustration, my e-mail correspondents are all
quiet, I shall have to resort to

McGonagall for succour, his Poetic Gems will have
me laughing again; the lovely limericks imparting
a moral lesson will improve the tenor of my mind –
I’ll read ANYTHING I can find

But another word of this official document and I’ll
gag on the spot; only my lifeless body would be
left behind while my spirit goes forth to find
escape from official life!