In line at lunch I cross my fork and spoonto ward off complicity—the ordered lifeour leaders have offered us.
Thin as a knife,our chance to live depends on such a signwhile others talk and The Pentagon from the moonis bouncing exact commands: "Forget your faith;be ready for whatever it takes to win: we faceannihilation unless all citizens get in line."I bow and cross my fork and spoon: somewhereother citizens more fearfully bowin a place terrorized by their kind of oppressive state.
Our signs both mean, "You hostages over therewill never be slaughtered by my act." Our vowscross: never to kill and call it fate.
