Bobby Sands

 

The tricolours were at half-mast in every other town

the summer that would end with late rains

on the beer garden of the Shark Hotel, Khartoum.

 

Ghandi-thin, he hung in every other shop window

all the way down, got a bit lost in Wales,

was only faintly visible from England's south coast.

 

Frogs burped, fruitbats flew, there were bony cats

under every other table: Bob Marley...the barman

ticked off his finfers, Margaret Thatcher...Bobby Sands...