Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Fresh Market

Early morning
at St. Lucie county fresh market
tomatoes red as blood, string beans
kale, carrots, oranges to squeeze
big, bright, death-defying
all raised with ease, locally
on sandy soil, close to the nuke plant
a force to be reckoned with.

They lie spread-eagled on tables
hoping for candlelight couples
instead, ancient ones roam
some mangled, some slow
some tired of low prosperity
but poised with flattened wallets
on this day the thirteenth
though not a Friday.

My hands caress mangoes
as if champagne
bursting in glory, sparkling
for life deep in sweetness
and in chatty vendor’s smile
so much taste and grace
and colorful dreams blooming
oblivious to gamma rays.

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Prompt: Not a Friday