This Poem Demands Respect

This poem demands respect
because it features my dead mother
who was a saint, a heroine
until one day she pegged it in the shopping centre
her black pudding rolling away
destined never to be eaten
- it was a very Jewish area.

This poem must not be rolled up,
smoked, or used as a weapon
with which to hit children;
bruises or metaphors could land you in prison,
and this poem is quite unsuitable
for use in schools
because it contains drugs and the word fuck.

This poem demands publication
because I have a bad leg, a black dad
and my sexuality is dubious;
so when you have finished reading
bury this poem on an island
in the centre of a Northamptonshire lake
and forget about it completely.