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