Shopping with my mother
I’m fifty going on nine
in the produce section
the green disarray of lettuces
flamboyant peppers
add some flair
as if Matisse had been let loose there.
Above our heads
the industrial rafters
are chirping with excitement
two skittering little birds
jumping gaily
humming their good fortune.
Nothing green can stay
as nothing alive can either
up there flying over berries and mangos.
Nervously, I shift on one foot
looking for a man
with murder in his net.
This store here,
now remodeled
I remember in the 1980s
when a woman ran through
the plate glass window in front
with a frozen chicken
already dead, of course,
that bird and it’s stilled wings.
Perhaps I could entice these two down
with some blood red strawberries
make a run for the exit?
My mother
deep in thought
critiquing the shortcomings of the peaches
doesn’t see that blind death is creeping
from the dazzling display
of sunshine oranges
into the bins of
discarded produce.
I love this. Thanks for the market adventure ♥️
Thanks so much, Holly. xx
xx
What a scene, Lana. The contrast between the produce market – as lively and colorful as a Matisse – and the impending death of the little birds is so powerful. I love the details and the vividness, the memory of the plate glass shattering. I too am only nine when in my mother’s company. Great poem.
Thanks Diana. This scene was from a while back before my mom died. She ruled the produce aisle with a sharp eye. I always worry when I see birds flying around in stores. I’ve seen them in Walmart too. I know they aren’t just going to let them be when there is food involved, health department, etc. It makes me sad to contemplate their fate.
I see them in the big open markets and never noticed them being chased out. I imagine that it happens. And I can relate to your mom’s love of the produce aisles. <3
I identify a little with all of the players in this poem, the fifty-going-on-nine-year-old lady wandering through the colorful produce, the one lost in memories, the little birds who are trapped inside but not unhappy, the older woman critiquing the shortcomings of the peaches. I have been each of them, and all of them at once. Lovely, Lana, a seamlessly woven piece. 🙂
Thanks so much, Joan. Sometimes the goings-on of everyday life really does have a lot of depth especially for those of us that look at life through a literary lens. Happy writing my friend!
Amazing nd expressing ur memories thru a poem is even more beautiful nd vivid .
To the nine year old ,loved it.💕
Thanks so much, Annmaria!
What a colourful and yet also chilling poem with that hint of everything being mortal, Lana. It reads to me like those beautiful dutch still life paintings thay always paired the unlasting beauty of fruits with a memento mori, a candle or skull. The reference to Matisse is perfect for these produce aisles. I’ve never seen birds in any of our supermarkets but I imagine they would be chased out too. Xoxo
Mortality is always a good theme to explore and there is something about danger balanced with color. I had to look Matisse up, though, I needed a colorful artist, LOL. That is very interesting about the still life dutch paintings, I will have to look some of those up also. Thanks so much, Sarah. Happy, beautiful creative weekend my friend. xoxo