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The Bum of Skiathos

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  • The Bum of Skiathos

    The stench landed first at dawn,
    Of women, youth, and age.
    The bum of Skiathos smelled it lone.

    He gazed over the water’s film –
    A dot (a few!) grew closer with the stink.
    He squinted into light to see

    A briny raft of limbs
    Suspended in the sea.
    Slowly washing up.

    They held nightstand knickknacks
    In chewed up sacks
    To remember the Syria now gone.

    The bum knelt, for he had naught to give.
    His job vanished, his wife on balcony hung,
    Her fake-diamond marriage ring limp, slipping.

    There was love, and even money.
    Just not enough
    To survive the plunge.

    He looked at his reflection in the sea.
    Even for the miles of flood that parted raft from man
    The bum knew who the people coming were.

    Aren’t we all refugees
    And bums
    Squatting on Earth that isn’t ours?

    Smiling for the first time since the crash,
    The bum cast a long silhouette
    Down the igneous sand

    Knees chafed, arms outstretched,
    Forming a cross
    On ancient earth.

    Engulfing his shadow
    Boundless and bare
    The shoreline stretched,

    And it was empty
    But for the raft and bum
    Who would soon meet.

  • #2
    Hi, Angelopolous, I like this. It is thought-provoking and well written. Thanks for sharing.

    Comment


    • #3
      How do you tell good eggs from bad eggs.I know it's cruel, it don't come easy, to steal a Beetle's line.

      Comment


      • #4
        Thanks! =)

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