The Bagman Poem by Hugh Green

The bagman carrying his life upon his back
Tortuoused - a shell of ugliness seen circling the cracked mirrors of his heart
Raw withered claws blackened by rainy nights fraught of cold
Fought bold in fevered sweat though trembled in their meaning
By numbed worn fingers clutching the filth of life

No cart or cardboard in his palace, universes measured by bathing lacked
And meager rents thrown, bones of the guilty - he is their incontrovertible barrier
Unable in despair to move eyes towards or away, ears gone limp
A weak smile that fear motivates, pain that bleeds of relief sought

Plying dreams to nightmares, folding, crunching, stuffing

The bagman… filling his sack
I envy him his soul….