If there were wounds it would help.
As victims – see, he bleeds – we could welcome them.
Or gashed with plastic and fake blood applied with a make-up brush,
At least then we’d know they really are The Walking Dead.
‘Keep the zombies out,’ we’d shout. ‘Don’t give them a home.’
‘A refugee’s not just for Halloween.’

Instead of ambiguous, they might have made themselves more obvious.
Don’t they realise, it’s the open-ended we don’t know how to hack?

Whether the under-18s kicking a ball about in the temporary territory
Set out for them by French police, will bring with them
The wreckage of their camp – nothing but a plague upon our houses.
Or, supposing they’re allowed to come, perhaps they’ll add
A dash of something different. Not guttersnipes at all,
But popping up in Shoreditch as readily as
They’ve taken to their new container quarters.

We might look at this as the chance to overcome our own uncertainty….
Or not.