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Eunice Tietjens

(1884 – 1944)

The Beggar

“Christ! What is that–that–Thing?

Only a beggar, professionally maimed, I think.”

Across the narrow street it lies, the street where little

children are.

It is rocking its body back and forth, back and forth,

ingratiatingly, in the noisome filth.

Beside the body are stretched two naked stumps of

flesh, on one the remnant of a foot. The wounds

are not new wounds, but they are open and they

fester. There are flies on them.

The Thing is whining, shrilly, hideously.

“Professionally maimed, I think.”

Christ!

(Hwai Yuen)

Eunice Tietjens poetry

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