Monday, January 03, 2011

Jugglers and Hagglers

‘Liar!’ yelled a woman in a purple skirt with matching runaround lace. ‘He’s the devil his self!’ shouted a man holding a walking-stick. ‘His mother has the crazy disease!’ shouted the woman in the purple skirt. ‘Let’s Kill him!’ shouted a boy throwing a tantrum. ‘and send him back to where he came from!’ added a second boy with a mane of fiery red hair. ‘Stop!’ shouted Poldy. ‘leave the poor man alone! He’s done no wrong!’ ‘let’s kill him!’ shouted a boy pointing at Poldy. ‘no, this one!’ said the other boy. ‘like we planned’. ‘kill every last one of them!’ said a colossal man with a dwarf on his back. ‘then burn them’ said the Witness addressing the mob. ‘in Hell Fire’ screeched the boy at the top of his lungs. Off in distance the legless man could be heard yelling ‘With my own two hands! Now get out of my way or I’ll run you over! I swear I will!’

He stole his way past jugglers and hagglers, past the post-digger and his assistant, past a man advertising pork bellies, a gory display of entrails and viscera, bowel and tripe, he stole his way past everyone and everything, a twinkling in his eye. I will I swear I will I swear! Lela watched as the man collected his things, placed them in a satchel and walked away, the sun shining like a roaring lion, his steps ferrying him across the wet glistening streets like a broken metronome. I will see him again, sometime, I know I will she said to herself. I may pass him in the street or see him placing his things in neat rows on the ground, the sun barely risen, stars holding the night at bay. I will I will, I will see him again, of that I am sure.

No comments:

About Me

My photo
"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

Blog Archive