Written after a visit in the winter of 2019.
Orihuela market
Out
The camels smile their lugubrious smile,
kneel-lying on the cobbled street
as one of the herd clambers to its feet,
to carry the excited child.
The boy, a swirl of bravado and fear
rises and jerks towards the sky.
His sister clings, with no pretence,
between the humps and squeals and cries.
Exotic scents drift through the crowd
out from the stalls, a Moorish feel,
the dancer's hips make snake-like lines
to the pipe's mesmeric reel.
Meats, skewered and layered, drip fat
scents of spice drift in our wake
Full legs of ham, great wheels of
cheese
and tempting us, huge slabs of cake.
Back
Candy floss and toffee apples
hints of Britain
in the winter sunshine
banished by churros
dipped in chocolate.
An array of trinkets made from
the bones of animals
No hay maltrato animal
the sign informs
Under the mighty wall of rock
the church's bells hang in loaded silence.
A man who resembles
our image of Jesus
silently passes by its door The sun is cooling now
and the crowds drift home.
The camel chews and dreams
of deserts.
Tim Fellows 2019
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