A torn, worn-out chequered tea towel chests the following poem: Knuckled grenades explode on the floury-sprayed dough, Kneading trenches low like dental impressions, For a spiralled, barbed-wire brace Prickling pins and needles Stinging skins, boiled from vegetable-oiled fires Foggy smoke rises and inspires gargling perspiration Drops, like rain, fall from her wrinkled forehead, Extinguishing the flames from the base She’ll cyclically fold and overturn Squelching Her gold cuffed bangles chiming, Pleading for a treaty of peace