Among the pipes and pulleys, sacks and seeds,
there is a necklace made of crimson beads.
Great care was taken that it catch the eye
of plain-clad fernandinas passing by
the Sunday market stalls and sundry shops
where needs and wants diverge. A woman stops.
She holds the necklace to her collar, asks
the price, then gently puts it down and masks
her disappointment with a repartee ”
Demasiado lindo para mí.
Too nice. Yet, homeward-bound, shell look again
and hope no one has bought it.
Now and then,
a thing of beauty must be bargained for,
though all it graces is a dresser drawer.
-
The Red Beads: At the Maldonado Flea Market, Uruguay
America's most
influential
journal of
religion and
public life Subscribe Latest Issue Support First Things
influential
journal of
religion and
public life Subscribe Latest Issue Support First Things