Sufferer

The man’s face is pale and blank,
his hollow eyes strain to see
and I smell the odorous rank
of human mortality.
Emaciated ribs jut
from the man’s sunken chest;
crimson blood drips from a cut
which yellow gangrene congests.
His thin body convulses
as his swollen belly gasps.
His weak heart barely pulses
as his swollen throat rasps.
I watch him with contempt
but his face reveals no shame
as his bony arms attempt
to support his rakish frame.
The man’s anaemic lips flutter
and his mouth it forms a word
which his voice quietly mutters
. . . but the man cannot be heard.

(c) John den Boer, 2002