When Blunkett starts to talk like Enoch Powell
I think of Harold Wilson’s statue in Huddersfield Station
Caught striding forward, gripping his pipe in his pocket,
Hair blowing in the wind.
could we but turn that bronze
To flesh I would have asked him to meet the two
Asylum-seekers I met in Huddersfield’s main street
And asked directions from.
"We are Iranian refugees",
They stammered apologetically.
"Then welcome to this country.
I said as we shook hands, their smiles like the sun.
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