Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Waiting to be Fed

It’s that magic half-hour
When color and distance deepen
And every photographer knows his
Pictures will look as good as a View Master slide.

My wife’s uncle pushes an old bike
Up against his tin shed of a house.
He’s 80 and too unsteady to ride far
So for the most part he just pushes the bike.

The dogs, too many to count, waiting to be fed,
Gather at his feet, milling about with tails wagging
As if they were on a dance floor keeping time
To Benny Goodman’s String of Pearls.

He produces a black plastic pail and sloshes
Boiled rice into three bowls apart: big, so so, and small.
Infirm and almost blind with no property or
Real family to call his own, this feeding remains
Of what he owes the world and all those living there.

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