Brixton Market



Crossing the road is different here.
We gather in a crowd,
then, as if by telepathy,
we know it's time to surge.

Under the Delfts-blue sky
we shop for yams and sweet potatoes,
scarlet cotton for a dress.
It fell off the back of a lorry.

We love Mum’s Dutch misunderstandings.
She must think London is full of lorries
with badly-fastened doors,
shedding goods into the arms of waiting traders.


Judith van Dijkhuizen


If you have any comments on this poem,  Judith van Dijkhuizen would be pleased to hear from you.