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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...

 

 

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