Two’s a party

Figureheads straddling a high horse
Dodging the wedge
You jockey for position
Tighten your belts a notch
Staring grim-faced into the wind
Clutching the third rail
And holding hands
In a glass box under the spotlights
Throwing light on dark truths
Flanked by physicians of rotation
Dictating a repeat prescription
Spinning the wheel
Steering the ship of state through stormy seas
Bearing poison pills for the melting pot
To force-feed the tweeting masses
No artificial sweetener here
Its keel ploughs the depths