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May 10
poem
Yellow Sweater's picture
Yellow Sweater

The Farmer's Market

my uncle grabbed a bag 
of fiddleheads, 
tender beginnings, 
at the farmer’s market, 
said he was going 
to fry them
with honey, pink-
peppercorn, and salt. 
the farmers bring dirt 
to Market Street, 
spread it over 
the concrete, like 
a memory. I can smell 
the black coffee, 
watered earth. 
sunlight seeps 
around the corner,
shining off the tents like 
they’re the towers 
of camelot. I remember 
when the vendors 
would hand me 
a little taste of whatever 
they’d brought 
to the city, plant 
a seed in my belly, 
watch me smile 
as it began to sprout. 
 
Event Date: 
Wednesday, May 11, 2022
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Posted: 05.10.22
Yellow Sweater's picture
About the Author: Yellow Sweater
MSG / CONTACT
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Discussion

Comments

  1. thegreenone
    May 19, 2022

    ahh man i just miss getting all the homemade cookies and pastries on my school trips to the farmer's market

    no way a male poet?! yes way

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  1. Yellow Sweater
    May 20, 2022

    I love farmers markets so much! Like it's hard to think of a place where I feel more genuine joy lol.

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