i looked after people
—- when the hoopla stall
had caught its final ring
—- and i realised we are easily flung
——– onto the fates to which we cling

she did still find part of something
she offered her own apologies
i felt they were not needed
for cloaked upon my frame
were textiles of guilt and shame

white fragility
—– flies banners
———- above football stadiums
————— it does not know why it is wrong
——————– still some of the fans
————————- know the tune and sing along

fragments of nicola
different pieces
different versions –
that i see

our government is welded to to class
and tightly bolted to a sense of entitlement
then they riveted solidly to their own ego
so how can they ever care for us?

politics and politicians
as well as political issues
are like waves,
small waves that lap against the shore
they are small waves
that people can jump or avoid

if anyone –
ever tells you –
that,
they want you –
to speak up

when did that idea
so readily come along
perhaps, in some railway tunnel
where a light once shone

that bubble will stay afloat
and a, ‘live, love, laugh’ sign
could never rock a chosen boat
it is not enough to be, ‘non racist’