Strong Man
(To Benjamin Zephaniah)
You came to Newham Bookshop
Down West Ham way,
Dreadlocks bowed before kiddies’ stories.
I watched you – strong, kind, angry –
and remembered the poetry:
Iron fist hammering out fierce honesty,
Asking hard questions.
Everything was in place.
But it was sperm – ordinary, everyday sperm –
That stopped you in your tracks.
The silent scream of infertility,
The silent scream of childlessness,
The silent scream, the silence.
Yet you spoke, too, vulnerable to the end,
Something men must learn.
Lean close, cup your ear
And listen to the shelves’ lingering echoes:
‘There must be a baby in there somewhere
There must be a baby in here.’