Here now skyline assembles fire.
The sun collects up to leave.
Its bright following paled,
suddenly all goes. Dusk rushes
in, like door closed on windowless room.

The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.
The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.
The hall is worried about the loose banister.

Spices and gold once cast a spell
On bearded men in caravels.

New World New World cried history
Old World Old World sighed every tree.

In our flat
faces speak
of places across the sea.

In our flat
voices walk in
talking, but not like me.

Behind you
Windrush child
palm trees wave goodbye

above you
Windrush child
seabirds asking why

around you
Windrush child
blue water rolling by