The Little Man In The Field Poem by Timmy Curran

Better rest, no need to hurry
let these bones take
a seat and heal
Today he will give me
many aches, on account
of the wave of my hand,
that in any language
always means the same

The lashings will be deep
most likely felt for
more than a week
And tonight how soundly
I will sleep
That man doesn't know me,
never will and never will want
I smile at his taunts
as he heaves them ever more wearily
And I rest well, smile within
always the better
with aching body and purple skin