Fishers of Men {edited again}
Posted: Wed Jan 14, 2009 11:26 pm
Version 3
I saw them twice that day
First at the ferry port
unsteady ground beneath my feet;
two boys in ambuscade
between the huge containers.
The smaller, about six
and two shades of dirt darker
than his brother,
wearing only a string vest
that hung to his ankles -
an outsized fishing net
ripped to catch sympathy.
They tugged at my arm
like sharks tasting meat
for the first time in weeks.
But I had been hooked before
and knew the faintest scent
would bring others shoaling.
I gave them two words: "Walung peso"
The truth; nothing to spare,
just enough for food and a night's lodging
out of monsoon rains and empty streets.
I saw them again on my way to eat;
on a step asleep above the swirling streets,
backs to a statue of Christ
whose depleted eyes seemed to avoid the scene.
I left my twenty peso note
beneath one tiny hand.
Version 2
They met twice that day
by accident and design.
At the ferry port,
ground still unsteady beneath his feet;
boys threaded between containers.
One, his face two shades of dirt
darker than his brothers,
dressed in a string vest - his fathers?
An outsized fishing net,
cunningly ripped to catch sympathy.
They tugged the man's arm like sharks,
tasting meat for the first time in weeks; but
he had been baited before, knew the scent
would bring whole shoals flocking.
He gave them two words,
"Walung Peso"
and it was true, no money beyond
food and lodging for the night.
Cheap food meant an evening search
among monsoon rains
and empty streets.
And so they met again.
Asleep on a step above waters swirling below;
his small netted back to the statue of Christ
which gazing over him with ransacked eyes.
The man paused, placing coins
beside the tiny hand.
A minor meal of bread and fish.
Version 1
I saw you twice that day
by accident or design.
At the ferry port,
ground still unsteady beneath my feet,
you slipped from among the containers.
Face two shades of dirt darker than your brother's
you wore his string vest or maybe your father's.
An outsized fishing net, cleverly ripped to
catch our sympathy.
Tugging at my arm like sharks,
tasting meat for the first time in weeks; but
I had seen this bait before, the first scent of money
and whole shoals will come flocking.
I gave you, two words,
"Walung Peso"
and it was true, no money beyond
food and lodging for the night.
But food meant a evening search
for somewhere cheap, among the monsoon rains
and the empty streets.
And so I saw you again, sleeping on a step,
avoiding the currents of water swirling past.
Small netted back turned against the statue of Christ
which gazed down with ransacked eyes.
I left my twenty peso note
tucked beneath your hand.
A meal of bread and fish.
I saw them twice that day
First at the ferry port
unsteady ground beneath my feet;
two boys in ambuscade
between the huge containers.
The smaller, about six
and two shades of dirt darker
than his brother,
wearing only a string vest
that hung to his ankles -
an outsized fishing net
ripped to catch sympathy.
They tugged at my arm
like sharks tasting meat
for the first time in weeks.
But I had been hooked before
and knew the faintest scent
would bring others shoaling.
I gave them two words: "Walung peso"
The truth; nothing to spare,
just enough for food and a night's lodging
out of monsoon rains and empty streets.
I saw them again on my way to eat;
on a step asleep above the swirling streets,
backs to a statue of Christ
whose depleted eyes seemed to avoid the scene.
I left my twenty peso note
beneath one tiny hand.
Version 2
They met twice that day
by accident and design.
At the ferry port,
ground still unsteady beneath his feet;
boys threaded between containers.
One, his face two shades of dirt
darker than his brothers,
dressed in a string vest - his fathers?
An outsized fishing net,
cunningly ripped to catch sympathy.
They tugged the man's arm like sharks,
tasting meat for the first time in weeks; but
he had been baited before, knew the scent
would bring whole shoals flocking.
He gave them two words,
"Walung Peso"
and it was true, no money beyond
food and lodging for the night.
Cheap food meant an evening search
among monsoon rains
and empty streets.
And so they met again.
Asleep on a step above waters swirling below;
his small netted back to the statue of Christ
which gazing over him with ransacked eyes.
The man paused, placing coins
beside the tiny hand.
A minor meal of bread and fish.
Version 1
I saw you twice that day
by accident or design.
At the ferry port,
ground still unsteady beneath my feet,
you slipped from among the containers.
Face two shades of dirt darker than your brother's
you wore his string vest or maybe your father's.
An outsized fishing net, cleverly ripped to
catch our sympathy.
Tugging at my arm like sharks,
tasting meat for the first time in weeks; but
I had seen this bait before, the first scent of money
and whole shoals will come flocking.
I gave you, two words,
"Walung Peso"
and it was true, no money beyond
food and lodging for the night.
But food meant a evening search
for somewhere cheap, among the monsoon rains
and the empty streets.
And so I saw you again, sleeping on a step,
avoiding the currents of water swirling past.
Small netted back turned against the statue of Christ
which gazed down with ransacked eyes.
I left my twenty peso note
tucked beneath your hand.
A meal of bread and fish.