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.
“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>
A market is so much about the people, and the woman selling cauliflower is so well painted in her actions.
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!
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.” 🙂
Most farmer’s markets here don’t couple with an animal auction; that’s a separate gig. But it makes your market more exotic.
Love the details and sounds. I also love the woman selling cauliflower.
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.
Wonderful description of unloading the sheep, the cauliflower vendor, and ending with the auctioneer’s gavel (I assume?).
I love the travelogue narrative here, these precise details that are essential to the whole. Beautifully done.
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!