La Rue Cler

By Dora Simpson

Sunlight streaks awning tops
spilling ink sketches down Rue Cler

as delivery trucks wrangle narrow
cobble and brick, side-by-side they purr.

Yesterday’s swine hangs upside-down
from meat hooks, stripped of its hide;

sides of beef with s-shaped, naked spines
drape over white, market smocks

as men shoulder the red flesh.
Their cigarette smiles mock

youthful vigor in aging frames.
Next door at Top Halles’ grocery

chin-dripping, ripe cherries and tangerines,
pears as sweet as roses, lemons and berries tease

the palate.  Trees chirp with hungry mouths.
Two-wheeled carts thump. Parisian patrons

choose cheese cylinders and grainy, hard wedges
powdered white, gray, and burnt marshmallow.

Fish, clams, sea snails, and oysters
fill cases at La Sablaise Poissonnerie.

Bouquets of yellow, orange, and red cheer
pathetic troops of shrunken, bound shrubbery.

Sweet aromas rise on soft winds.  Cappuccino,
chocolate, and croissants.  Rainbows of macaroons.

Sunlight streaks awning tops
spilling ink sketches down Rue Cler.




Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU Student