The olive oil soap's from Selem's shop.
We brought roses when Gaddafi fell.
But it speaks to me of Spice Bazaar in Istanbul
Saffron, turmeric, cardamom
Isparta Rose and Queen of the Night,
Saudi women smiling through their veils
As we buy atttars side by side in Arifoglu,
Rainbow sheaves of headscarves
Buckets of leeches
Sunlight on the Bosphorus.
Pink Island Rose is Caldey,
Helping Mum across the sands
Boat trip from Tenby Bay
Spray, gulls, tang of salt and seaweed,
Sea thrift, gorse, lavender,
Monks in white choir robes
Chanting and bowing.
Chuckling Goat sebon llaeth gafr
Oatmeal and Honey
Is Ceredigion and the Cambrian Mountains
Tramps across muddy fields
Rainy walks down winding lanes,
Ros the Poet with her green wellies,
Tony bringing leeks from the polytunnel,
Sunset at Blaepennal Church.
Packed in straw, the rustic soap
Was probably an illegal import.
And Mysore Sandal is Sadananda
Coming home with a crate of mangoes
A bag of lychees
Four jars of pickle
A sack of rice
And twelve bars of soap.
"I hope I didn't spend too much," he says.
Lathering in the shower
Hot water on my back
Fragrance of rose and sandalwood,