On National Poetry Day Jo Bell tasked me to write a poem about being on a train and travelling from London to Manchester and *not* being able to go to poetry events.  I'd just done my first day at the Barbican and was commuting back home.  This is what came out.

Across England there are homes.
In pubs and streets and library waiting 
rooms.
Places I could turn up, call my home
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I grew up in a country of

                        fish & chips

                    & 9 to 5.

With jet back hair and dark skin

I stood out sorely at school,

                                at work,

                                in the street.

I longed to visit that place, elsewhere,

Which my parents always spoke of.

The place where I would fit in.

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