Like Benjamin Zephaniah

Well, I’m not black, and I haven’t dreadlocks,
but I grew up in Birmingham
and I am a poet of sorts, a vegan,
and, of course, I support Aston Villa.

And if someone told me I’d but weeks
to live, my main regret would be the same
as his, that I wouldn’t see Villa
win the Premier League.

But here is where I differ from him -
Benjamin couldn’t produce any kids
and wasn’t allowed to adopt them
because of a police conviction
back in the nineteen seventies.

Well, I’ve got eight children:
four by natural causes, four adopted
and several criminal offences
back in the nineteen seventies.
I should be counting my blessings.
But on Christmas Day (when we didn’t
eat turkey) I looked at the twenty three
others close to me, as elbows bumped
and the decibels grew higher,
and not for the first time I felt the desire
to be more like Benjamin Zephaniah.

Raymond Miller

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Raymond Miller  would like to hear them