Political Interment Poem by Liam ó Comáin

From the depths of sleep
Aroused by clamour,
Increasing prior to the
Opening of a door:
“Are you…”-from a list
With a hand on my shoulder-
“I arrest you by virtue
Of a Special Powers Order! ”

Dragged to a Saracen
Hands tied behind
Pushed in with a sandbag
Over my head…
Pulled to the door
With legs out flying
Driven around
With a strong sense of dread.

Slowing up…truncheoned…
And forced into running
To be queried about details
They already possessed…

Later, at intervals, intense
Interrogation which they enjoyed
Immensely as a game or test…
Finally, without explanation or apology,
Released after too long at Britain’s behest.