You are the rabbit in my head,

the one that demands that Time

is always against me, that Time

is the ogre, the Fagin of the day, pinching

without being noticed and offering

the stolen seconds to

the procrastinator,

the bully boy side step

of borrowed minutes

in ragged top hat and

the pitbull of days,

snarling as it returns the wallet

full of I.O.U.s which

cannot be redeemed.

 

You are The Cheshire Cat

smiling at me as the Rabbit

taps his fob watch

and punches the clock

with white paws

holding a cut throat razor

between his buck-teeth

and one ear bent back,

heeding the words that

The Cheshire Cat

refuses to impart.

I wander through your land,

ever mindful not to appear to stray

off the beaten path,

not to be seen to be lost

in the many rooms and alleyways

that the strange land offers…

 

but you don’t see me Rabbit,

I will not find Time

a pleasant thief nor the ugly side of

Victorian destitution,

instead, like Alice,

I find it curious

and I wish for nothing more than

wrap the chain of the watch around the Rabbit’s neck

and squeeze,

for no Rabbit whispers down my ears,

Time is my own.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015