This poem was written after visiting the house of the infamous Jim Thompson, an American who served as an officer and a spy in WWII, and later was stationed in Bangkok.
After he retired, he decided to stay and started a Thai silk company that was said to have resurrected and “saved” the entire silk weaving industry in Thailand. He became quite famous and successful. With his money and architectural skills, he built one of the most elaborate beautiful wooden houses in Bangkok.
you get this eerie feeling
On March 26, 1967, Jim disappeared while he was taking a walk in Malaysia—he was never found. Two months later back in the US, his sister was murdered.
Still today, there are a lot of speculations about what happened to Jim and if his disappearance was related to his sister’s death. And when you visit his house, you get this eerie feeling of this unsolved mystery.
…….
THE MYSTERY OF JIM THOMPSON
I step barefoot on
the wooden planks
teak
shined + varnished
through the slanted doors cut out of
the wall
Inside his handmade makeshift
Thai ship-house
surrounded by gardens grown into
jungle
by the water canals
passing boats splash waves
high tide
Livingroom
preserved
lounge pillows fluffed
antiques mount walls
upside down Burmese drums give
light
Buddhas pray in
silent libraries
a white mouse frozen in
time
still waiting in a maze to
race
Dining room
preset table to
welcome
Bedlinens turned down
the frog and cat piss pots
empty
In the garden
silkworm cocoons boil
in buckets
as threads are
pulled + spooled
I glance back at
the house
I swear
I catch a glimpse of
a shadow
maybe–
a ghost
Jim Thompson’s spirit
lurking + staring
looking down
from his second-story deck
upon
crowds crowds crowds
filing through + peering in
Wondering to himself
Just as we do
What happened?
By KM Sharp