Dinner is served
without relish.
The silence is suffocating,
worse than the double edged conversation
that cuts
and slices to thin ribbons
all pretence
of co-operation, celebration or
mutual comprehension
that we dare suggest
or try to realise.
You look to right and left,
a pawn between two powerful pieces
intent on mutual domination.
What chance, Alice, that you will cross the board
and claim your queenly crown?
Janice Windle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/growing-pains-11-through-the-looking-glass/
