To cover a human face

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Once upon a time only yesterday she felt a human face

this is my brother she said, the dropped fog made him silent,

they covered the face of our Father with his shirt of blood rust.

 

Once upon a time everyday she covers her face to see through people,

the civilised men in suits who tut-tut in Costa through newspapers

men like these hid their faces in brothels that day ITN came.

 

Once upon a time every night she remembers how silk became tourniquets,

how to stem a wound they would use dead children’s clothes and

when they were done used the same garment to cover their faces.

 

Last week I saw a photograph of ten men discussing matters of the womb

their leader grabs vaginas like Las Vegas dice and sells us for votes,

I saw women lined up naked once, a camera captured the acts.

 

Once upon a time my Mother unbuttoned her blouse through a covered veil,

she fed me milk in British Home Stores as an old man stared disgusted

it was in my mother’s nature to undo him like her blouse.

 

Once upon a time tomorrow and the next day, and a Brexit year from now

I want to see an England that celebrates the women in short skirts

I want to break bread with her and not talk of race of Niqabs.

 

Once upon a time a Brexit year from now I want to hang my niqab on the line

sit in complete and utter darkness naked as dusk filling my rural lungs,

take in England, take in life and say I love you to my uncovered face.