Emma's England (a poem)

Emma’s England

My England is fuck all.

Born into a country in which I no longer belong,
sat on a bus,
alone with my Son

I look around
and see all those dark faces
from all those other places

Speaking words I do not understand

Me and my son,
what have we done.

It’s nice to look someone in the eye,
or smile, or talk about the weather
But how can I?
– How can I?

They grunt as I pass
and mumble when I ask
and talk under the breath
– so why should I?
– why would I?



They could have asked me
if I was alright.
But they sent me to jail
Kept out of sight.

Seperated from my children
yet convicted of no crime.
I thought England believed in Justice and law
But now I know – My England is fuck all.