Witness, the imortal (2) By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
He was a ball of fury
With a hand behind his back.
One wrist lashed to
A chain snaking up the dock,
Bolted to an iron pole
Driven in the earth
On the shore.
His right arm worked furiously,
Untying fishing baskets,
Dumping them over and
Sorting the fish into
Edible and non, then
Retying the baskets and
Sending them on their way.
His one hand worked
Twice as fast as anyone's two,
His shackled feet shifted
Quicker than the others' free.
He emptied baskets by
The dozens, moving
Like a streak of lightning,
Eyes lit up with the pleasure
Of doing good work.
They watched him as they
Worked themselves,
Shirtsleeves rolled back
To their elbows, faces
Streaked with fat and grease.
As they switched off baskets and
Passed the knives used to cut
The tangled, salty ropes,
Theyfollowed his movements.
They devoured him with
Their eyes.
They drank his sweat and
Ate the flips
Of his hair as he paused to
Flick it off his neck.
Each one of his motions was
A full course meal that they
Snapped up as though
They were starved for
The simplest of actions.
Once, even one of them
Approached him, and
Set to work beside him in
The place others left bare.
He hardly acknowledged
Their presence, just
Set to as hard as
Ever before.
The day drew long and
The sun came down, and
The marshalls returned to
Collect him.
They straightened their clothes
And watched him go,
A blistering intensity
Leaping from gaze to gaze.
But they did notfollow,
Or even
Go up the same street.
They went their own way,
And the man on the docks
Was forgotten
On the morrow.
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