To Whom it may Concern
When I heard the way they'd treated you
I wanted, very calmly,
to crush my glass against the table top.
And that would testify
I hadn't anything to do with them –
not the border clerks
who fingered through your papers,
nor the authors of their picklock questions,
shaped to make the wrong replies slide out
like bolts drawn slowly back across a trapdoor.
I wanted to shout down their smug assumption
of my mute agreement
to brand you, steal your clothes and make you dance.
Denials alone won't do
for those who make their own small ugly choices.
I needed, very simply,
to know if God could answer
the question of how far the likes of us
should take an inkling of complicity
when we remember how they treated you.
Michael Bartholomew-Biggs
from Inklings of Complicity, Pikestaff Press,
2003, ISBN 1 900974 23 1