Canteen

This poem was written on a Writing Day during the Writing School and later published in The North #53, Autumn 2014.


Canteen

I find myself in a canteen,
a windowless oblong box
with grey furry walls.

Everyone in this canteen
is tall, thin, elegant,
all waiting neatly in line.

I see myself in this canteen,
my image reflected in my neighbour.
She too has curves.

I find myself in a canteen
of cutlery. I am a table spoon,
the knives are to my left.

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