An Unpublished Bobby Sands Poem Evokes ‘The Greatest Hell’ 40 Years After His Death

In the open windows of this cross-Bronx spring, the smell of the sun hitting bricks brings me back to boyhood in the bright life of hedges and stoops. Cue today’s mass-bells and wrens and old men’s hearsay, the papers at McLean luncheonettes set for time travel. The Post shows a 4-train barreling into capital letters – ‘KNIFE HORROR ON SUBWAY’ – like The Taking of Pelham One Two Three. The Irish Echo headlines the inquest for the 1971 Ballymurphy massacre, and I recall the old NORAID posters I’ve seen unchanged in pubs since I was a teenager. The world rewinds with me. It’s a day staged to learn

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