In the Keyfood Market on Broadway
a woman waits
by the window
daily and patient
the comings and goings of buyers
neatly labeled old
like yesterday’s bread
her restless experienced eyes
weigh fears like grapefruit
testing for ripeness.
Once in the market
she was more
comfortable than wealthy
more black than white
more proper than friendly
more rushed than alone
all her powers defined her
like a carefully kneaded loaf
rising and restrained
working and making loving
behind secret eyes.
Once she was all
the sums of her knowing
counting on her to sustain them
once she was more
somebody else’s mother than mine
now she weighs faces
as once she weighed grapefruit.
Waiting
she does not count her change
Her lonely eyes measure
all who enter the market
are they new
are they old
enough
can they buy each other?