I grew up in Wales and have spent my adult life in various parts of the United States and in France. All these experiences influence my writing. A former teacher, I now live in Brooklyn, NY with my husband, and volunteer at the local elementary school. My poetry, which is a recent focus for me, has appeared in Antiphon, while my short stories and essays have been published elsewhere.
Madame wields her shopping basket like a weapon
splitting the knots of Brits who picked the Sunday market
option over the Château on their visit to Versailles.
Riled and tickled by her damned French effrontery,
they watch her force the ancient wicker through the ranks
of queue-respecting Anglo-Saxons to exact her due:
one kilo of green Reine Claude plums
gauzed with summer’s aphrodisial bloom.
Later, when they’ve found their bus again, amid the scores
ranged outside Louis IV’s golden railings,
and the passengers who chose the Château bring out
selfies of their own reflections in the Hall of Mirrors
they, the market patrons, will parade, like favor-seeking
court ambassadors, their bags of Reine Claude plums;
lush, fleshly tokens of the mounded,
jewel-colored bounty they recorded on their phones.
Eager raconteurs, they’ll mimic how Madame –
You should have seen her! – triumphed unopposed.
Droller by far to spin their acquiescence
as a case of bloody Gallic cheek than as the craven
tribute paid to crabbed old age;
that impulse to deflect the looking glass.
©2017 Ceri Eagling
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