In Macedonian Markets
After Pradech
The market had everything:
that Macedonian autumn
earth talked through mothers
standing over fruit
cooling it with water
for the eyes of the customers,
caressing it
as if caressing their children.
An old woman sat alone at the edge
of the market
a pitcher of water beside her
seldom approached.
Kerchiefs were spread before her
filled with crumbs of gold, sky-blue and black
and she said: go further on,
I just sell seed for flowers
About this poem
This poem, representing Macedonia, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.
