huddled
'neath
his face
exploding
flesh as
lava
he sits
and
stirs
at me
but can
he see
me
how does
he see
me
what
does he
see in
me
I turn
away
half
shock
half
sick
with
horror
but each
day
window
pond or
mirror
brings
for him
just pain
just sorrow
just sight

07/28/2006

Author's Note: One evening, begging passively in a large and populous square in Lisbon, I came across a man seated upon the ground in a quiet corner. He had the most disfiguring facial condition reminiscent of that most famously recorded in relation to Joseph Merrick (1862-1890). This is 2006.

Posted on 07/31/2006
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