‘Campaign For Real Time’
How can life so seamlessly
Become seeming time-lapse?
And where does my time go
Between one take and the next?
How much moment
Am I missing?

Who now sweeps
The cutting-room floor
And keeps those strips
Which, as a child would have
Played in the sprockets’ flickering?

And in old age
Will there be more
Cut out
From hour to hour
While I watch
The cataracts growing
Before my very eyes!
Pennine Ink 01/04
K A T E ‘ S   P O E M S