Barter Market

What’s an avocado worth—

an avocado sitting among

a twentyone of its bruised

 

brethren

     in a crate you’ve used

       for the last six months

 

to transport excess

     to the barter market

       behind

 

the permanent stalls

     on the ball courts

            south of El Santuario

 

How do you estimate the value

of an armload of flatleaf

       parsley

 

or cilantro

     exquisite plant neurologies in tact

            & bearing

 

bits of loam

     & yet-potent dung

       Who can calculate

 

the relative value

     of lake carp

            smoked

 

in a shore-side camp

or corundas

stuffed with June beans

 

& shredded pork

     & smothered in clotted cream

       just regaining their lungs

 

in earthenware pots

     Is it fair to trade

            a seedling palm

 

for a cast-off

     leather sole

            branded on both sides

 

with the image of the holy Mother

& toddler Christ

Are you blessed

 

if you exchange an elbow-deep

     stack of blue tortillas

       for a dozen juice oranges

 

or a short braid

     of stunted garlic teeth

            Are you victorious

 

if a crowd gathers

     before your gorditas

such perfect fatness

 

& that each bag

might fetch a threadbare serape

or fistful

 

of nearly radiant

     carrots

            Are you

 

heralded

if you reappear at home

with a sack of red

 

fingerling potatoes

     bruised field knuckles

       having left the last

 

of your duck eggs

     in an elder’s

            phosphorescent pail

 

& will you return the next time

or the next

if you cannot incite pity or interest or laughter

 

& your already rotting chard

melts to nothing

there

 

under the severity of a long morning sun