All To Market #DVersePoets #TuesdayPoetics

When the backboard drops they spill like water over a fall,

woolly bodies frothing from the flight decks,

feet upon each others’ backs.

 

There is a boy behind the hurdles,

already knee bent in anticipation,

fingers spread for the catch.

 

Outside, a woman is selling cauliflower.

Holds the head of it like a newborn

between the palms of her hands.

 

A farmer rattles pounds in his fist,

counts his luck,

passed it on to the winning bid.

 

In a corridor there is a circle

of bowed heads and five pence jumps,

till the circumference is a singular.

 

A lone man is loading up,

clicks the gates on what he brought,

tries not to fumble the catch.

 

Someone whispers at an absence,

shakes a head at suspicion,

does a math of miles inside their head.

 

They wait to hear the hammer fall.

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10 Comments

  1. “Outside, a woman is selling cauliflower.

    Holds the head of it like a newborn

    between the palms of her hands.”
    This is a startling and vivid image, Carol, Beautifully crafted poem>

  2. Ok…..this reminds me of the 4-H fairs in Iowa where, at the livestock tent, the kids lead their sheep/cow into the ring and the farmers bid on it. Or they enter through a gate…and the hammer falls to declare the final bid.
    And…as others have said, the woman with the cauliflower head is an amazing detail!

  3. Wowww!! ❤️ This is incredibly rich in tone and imagery. I love the image of the woman with “selling cauliflower,” and holding the head like “a newborn between the palms of her hands.” 🙂

  4. That’s a real traditional farmers’ market with livestock, which reminds me of scenes from Thomas Hardy’s novels. I love the rich description in this poem, Carol: the sheep spilling like water over a fall, ‘woolly bodies frothing’ and the woman holding the head of cauliflower ‘like a newborn between the palms of her hands’. I like the way the poem ends, waiting for the hammer to fall.

  5. Hi Carol. Very wonderful work! Honest expression shared openly. I am having an existential crisis tonight. I invite you to come visit me, cross my bridge of dreams, and listen to Joni sing like an angel!

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