Selling Lives

SELLING LIVES. Friday is free display day For the old, the poor, Plastc sheets spread over rain-filled Paths through the market square. Step aside for an old woman With a lined face Equally dodging the puddles, Automatic mutual glance. Didn’t know her but she looked A bit like someone I knew long since, Seeing through her wrinkles I felt I saw What she used to be Used to do in life. Followed her back to her plastic sheet, Here were her dreams Displayed. Taped down against The blustery wind, the story of her life. Her long tear-filled pathway. Small plastic toys long-unused Cheap necklaces and lapel decor Photos of a wedding, An even older photo of a soldier Who survived the Somme, Damp dog-eared paperback Of The Mayor of Casterbridge, A few pairs of worn gloves. Some once-fashionable stiletto heels: Dancing ribbons and trophies - Photos of parties long ago. Her life on display and on sale. Decades of effort now Half-covered against the rain Half-exposed to buyers, Family connections in frames for a few cents. Stress and practice till The 1959 Cha-cha-cha Prize was claimed - Today yours for a dollar. She asked momentarily If I was perhaps a boxer Seeing my medals on my sheet. No, I explained, they were My class student’s last awards Before he went to Khe Sanh. 12 February 2020 NOTE - This poem is set in Udelnaya market. Like many of my other poems.