Market Strawberries. Photo credit: Emma Beauchamp
by Onna Solomon
You’ve been standing here so long,
I say to the man selling za’atar
at the farmers market booth beside
the strawberry stand. I imagine you
can’t smell those strawberries anymore.
He smiles and shakes his head,
hands me my spices, my change.
I buy a quart and, unthinking, say it again
to the young woman behind the table:
You probably can’t smell the sweetness.
Her red-stained fingertips are quick,
practiced at bagging the berries
into white plastic. Looking up
from her task, she says matter-of-factly,
I don’t think I’ve smelled them for years.
***
Onna Solomon is a writer, social worker, library enthusiast, and “dance party mastermind.” She is the author of the poetry chapbook Disorder and her writing has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review, Denver Quarterly, Dunes Review, and Hobart, among others. She lives in the Old West Side of Ann Arbor. This poem was inspired by true events at the Ann Arbor farmers market during strawberry season.
***
This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, an Ann Arbor-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local Washtenaw poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at poettreetowna2@gmail.com.
