Rod Usher: Two Poems

Badajoz Tuesday Market   On flat land between a power station and the Guadiana river dark-skinned lean men and overweight women shout under shadecloth to shopping señoras via gold-and-tobacco teeth. We buy two kilos of picota cherries, honey, aubergines and —the reason we came this sweltering summer morning— guata, the stuff you stuff cushions with. My wife holds tight her handbag, pays for purchases, loads me up like a burro.   I’m on the lookout only for socks, those that barely cover the feet, stop just above the heel, beneath ankle bone. One gipsy has a pile of several “brands”…

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