To cover a human face

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
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.
Leave a Reply