The Market in Cheongju. Night
A spring night in Cheongju.
A thousand mysteries
in the elixir of cold oranges.
Korean seamstress in the closing market,
floor littered with remnants of others’ finery,
your head is bowed, machining quiet hours
into a wrap of restfulness we slip on
like a comfortable coat.
We stare, the dreaming needle flies,
and you, peace-working,
never lift your eyes.
These dark aisles draw us in;
down there, a couple in white smocks
and yellow gauntlets, by their silver trove
are ladling heaps of ice in bright
obeisance to the shuttered night.
We fly into the frozen moment,
seabirds through a sudden window.
Around us, shadows; doors
are slamming. Cries of watchmen
greet returning ghosts,
announce the close, and crash the iron bolts,
on the frozen moment
crash the iron bolts.
John Gartland, UK, novelist, playwright; founder-Poetry ID, UK. Poetry collections, Gravity’s Fool :2005, Poetry Without Frontiers: 2008. University teacher, Asia; Visiting Professor of English Writing, Korea National University of Education. You can find him on Facebook.