Hollowmen

The hollowmen are here
bumbling in the breeze,
truth on yoyo strings,
there and yet not there.
Stickysmiley candymen
painting panstick facts
that washaway nightly
onto hazy crazy paving.
Battendown your boltholes,
the goons are on the loose,
reaching for the foreigner,
the handshake, the noose.
Ring them bells at midnight,
their dolour dark and sheer.
Cast the weak onto the street,
for the hollowmen are here.

Harry Gallagher