Black Hole Man(For Lyn) Poem by Dónall Dempsey

We look at ourselves
reflected in the gym’s glass door

all tousled curls
boys & girls

seven or eight of us
only just
7 or 8
at the most.

“Go on! ”
The girls dare us to yell
the man into existence.

We dropp our voices
into the bottom of the silence

& out he comes
flustered as any furious spider.

Our laughter
runs away
scatters

hides itself
behind
cars

forgets to breath.

When he goes puzzled
in again

we repeat the procedure
but even louder!

We have him
on a string

as he comes & goes
on the yo-yo of our voices

to our delight
& his annoyance.

We yell with zeal
all the dirty words we know

like bum & poo
& wee wee.

We do it once too often
and he spots our positions.

Plays us at our won game
dashes after us
with swears & curses.

The others flee
in time

but me

clutched in a big hairy paw

am held
prisoner

in a tightening “Ha ha...gotcha! ”

He marches me
by the ear

through the gym

corridor after corridor

opens a hole
in the wall

stuffs me screaming
in.
His feet quickly
evaporate

in the stifling heat
in a clack c l a c k c l a c k.

Only silence
& the dark!

A black hole
full of basketballs
& me.

He comes back
after an hour

to find me
singing

Christmas carols
in July

to keep
the fear

at bay...away.

Tells a terrified me:

“Let that be
a lesson
to you! ”

Tremblingly I
assure him

It will be.

It is.

I escape into
the sunshine

ever so bright now

& blind
the others

with tales of deering-do!

Me! Afraid?
Ha! Never!

Only shaking ‘cos
it is cold

despite the heat

tell them
about my incarceration
in the black hole

& that the Devil
talked to me

but I refused
to listen!

sweat on my rosy cheeks
glistens.

Tell them I was tortured
but wouldn’t give in

wouldn’t spill
the beans
on them

reveal their
names
!
No...sireee…not me!

Mary Ann Kelly
whispers near my ear

“Oh you’re so brave! ”

Her kiss
sets fire
to my head

I want to burn
down to the ground.

The months
run away into Autumn

and then
at the Army Christmas party

Santa, sack
slung over a nonchalant shoulder

is ushered suddenly in
stands in the door with a hollow: “ Ho! Ho! Ho! ”

But before he even
crosses the threshold

my blood

runs cold.

I pale to find
it is none other than

the black hole man

not very cleverly
disguised with a patchy cotton wool beard.

My fervent belief
in Christmas

now no more

than so much shaking jelly
spluttered on the floor.