When the Ships Come To Berth

Over the ocean's creed Lie in waiting with foreign breed. Heavy metals laced the ocean's petals En-route to the creek in cargoed cans. Rice from the fields of Thailand, Iced fishes from freezing Iceland. Craps of computer hardware from Shenzen, Packs of frozen skeletal turkeys from China. Smuggled contrabands in hidden sacks Matches and toothpicks from Japan's racks. Cornfield of men at the wharf Old and young, giant and dwarf Exposing chest to the moment cling Hurling sacks of rice the cargoes bring Staggering weightless like David's sling "No food for the lazy" the saying goes When the ships come to berth, Able men to the harbor dart. A wave of pity descends my lung Watching men so silly and strong- Getting strangled beneath heavy loads, Smiling wickedly at crumpled notes. If only those energies could grace a trade, And suffocate beneath the weights of knowledge. When those ships come to berth, May be they will someday leave this shore Filled with the toil they bore With our local brands in foreign lands.