Ralph's Interview (Revision 2)

[tectak]

This isn't the first time
you've evacuated children.
Before the bomb, we were safe
inside closets of snowy forest
with our talking lion;
the beast always talks.
We were much the same
as those before.
We collected sea shells, danced
to the heartbeat of the world,
and dreamed of our parents'
tables, when hungry,
we ate pig.

Hi todd,
Google is swamped. Ralph's interview is lost on me. To the poem.
As always, you write for me. I enjoy your surefootedness...it is a an easy journey in a big comfy car with a trusted driver. Bumps? I do not feel them. I look out of the window and have no idea where I am or where you are taking me...and I care not a jot. I am being transported.
This is poetry as I know it...just one misfire for me. The enjambment on "parents'" is just intimidatory "parents' tables" must not be split. Why on earth do it?
I found myself reading:
" ...we dreamed of our parents; and of tables when hungry. We ate pig"
What's it all about? Lions, witches...but where's the wardrobe, Ralph? Do I get the job?
Best,
tectak