Anna V.Q. Ross – Green Amber Honeymoon

Anna V.Q. Ross

Green Amber Honeymoon

Poor gold, fit for no one
but tourists, which we are, ah luxury

to be allowed to revel in the tawdry,
the cheaply gorgeous.  In the market

the stalls divide and converge
in dim corridors, flecked

and suspended.  Each
places an imperfect globe,

impossibly large, of amber polished
to illuminated sepia on the top

shelf, luring us to see
what the Baltic has flung up

and left there, casting grandeur
upon trinkets below.  We stop,

requiring focus, in front of a glass case
of earrings bedded on black.  You choose

a pair from this multitude and hold
one against my earlobe, letting it dangle

close to my neck, jewelling me
for the second time this week.

A few zloty’s to the Polish girl
clearly unimpressed by such gleaming,

and they are ours to bring out
into the sun-sharpened square, mine

to carry five thousand miles
back to where we live.

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