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I wrote this poem a while ago with the image in mind of a family dominated by a bully having dinner. It’s short and to the point but I hope it works!

Fork and plate

Dinnertime

Eat your dinner.

I am, I am.

They watch you eat,

their breaths your bites

a pea rolls off the plate.

Stop playing with it.

I’m not, I’m not.

You spear and chew

a salty trickle

that greases your chin.

Did you hear me?

I did, I did.

A silent lick

reveals the pink

of a taunt unintended.

That’s it!

Sorry, Sorry…

his fist, your cheek,

with shaky hands

you clutch the fork.

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