I take this January morning in my hands and wonder
if it should go under London, England, Britain, British, Black-British –

where to put the burning house, the child made ash, the brick in the back of the neck, the shit in the letter box and piss up the side of it?

I file it under fire, corpus, body, house.

Patois

I heard a sound on New Cross Road that took me back: the first clause of a cuss sprayed from a custom Golf M2, three Asian boys near the Five Bells pub spoke

as if we had grown up side-by-side,

sudden cousins,

taking turns to lick each other with

bloodclart! when someone took your ludi piece,

raatid! like there was no money this month,

awoh! when someone suffered in a way we could enjoy.

Like the t in wa’er, the absent farver, like pouring bear,

South London kids

would part suspend

their mother tongue

sobbing after someone cussed their mum,

and come to sound exactly

like my mother

screaming yu rass at a shocked white face –

They don’t understand what I’m saying, she said.

Which is why she said it, knowing they felt every word.

They watched us, pursed and spat as we do.

Now ginger kids yam dumplins, hijabis snub the man dem –

This century dubbed by migrants from the last.

We do not speak with one voice about one thing

below the yellow, black and green flag of England.

Harbour

my voice

it was so weak, so sickened,

so grieved,

my voice it was so weak

and it broke in the heat, so sickened,

so sad, my voice it was broke, so low
was the hope, that it sickened,

I choked,

it closed in my throat,

my voice it was weak,

so sickened, so grieved –

my voice became glass

breaking in heat

I called

and no-one seemed to call with me

no-one seemed to know or see

what I had seen –

I was so sickened and so grieved

and I said to the child I knew
harboured in the fire – jump

Yvonne, jump Paul, jump –

and I said to my god I knew

harboured in the fire – jump

Yvonne, jump Paul, jump –

I said, I called – jump

Yvonne, jump Paul, jump –

my voice it was so weak

– Paul, jump –

so sickened and so grieved.

Songbook

Me seh ah one step fahwahd an ah two step back

Me seh ah tree step fahwahd an ah six step back

Me seh ah four step fahwahd an ah one step back

Me seh ah one half fahwahd an ah one half back

Me seh ah left side fahwahd an me right side back

Bust up left side right side haffi change tack

Me seh half de revalushun deh pun de attack

Only half a salushun to de tings dem we lack

Me seh gyal love reggae an gyal love move

Bwoy love reggae an im love up im groove

Di two ah dem rub up an starting to move