Calling England Home

Black and been here since 1949 West London jaw grind, 'Take it e-asy' We saw him You saw him Walking along the canal last night And what a joy to buck up upon him At the carnival today To hear him speak about The dances and the bands At the Paramount The spots you couldn't mix With white in, or dance in Remembering ... London. How he been slapped so hard With the lash Sam Selvon say And it take him 60 years Before he could call England 'Home' He musta come here in black and white, 1959 Time longer than twine So long ago he don't Remember being a child, Just a suit and steamer trunk Upon a ship which took A good six weeks to cross. We sat at his kitchen table And I filmed him on the fly But he wasn't saying much - At least nothing I could put in a poem. Instead he showed me Photographs - with the dashiki and the fez, With Michael X at the Ambience. Outside the night came in And he had moved so far away From calling England 'Home ' I've lived here longer than home, since 1989. Remember Harlesden in the spring time. I used to walk from Cricklewood To Marylebone High Street To cut up meat to punch out dough. I was never asked to wait tables Or to serve scones and coffee. I worked in the basement But I learned to tie my apron In a way that retained some dignity And in my first summer above the corner shop I listened to rare groove on pirate radio. I was flung so far from any notion of nation How long do you have to live in a place Before you can call it 'Home'?