Glass

bent torsos against the neon green glass
can’t reach the glass ceiling, pushed edgeways
on the daily grind to earn a crust in the patriarchal
world of power, patronage, fake news and lies
struggling to face the journey of life, mouths to feed
on a ‘single’ track to exist, chase the dreams in a world
of trains whizzing past on a path to nowhere, wars of
attrition, colour-coded, divisive, fighting the old wars
sisterhood bearing the brunt of hardship, the giver of
lives, still leaning looking for crumbs of comfort on a late night
tube home to nourish, rest and start at daybreak AGAIN.