The Woman Who Shopped Carol Ann Duffy

went out with a silver shilling, willing to buy, bought
an apple, red as first love's heart, bright as her eye,
had plenty of change, purchased a hat with a brim,
walked with a suitor under its shadow, ditched him;

saved up a pound, a fiver, a tenner, haggled the price
of a dancing dress down to a snip, spent the remainder
on shoes, danced from the house down the street, tapped to the centre of town where the sales had commenced,

applied for a job for the wage and the bonus, blew it
on clothes; wanted a wedding, a wedding dress, groom,
married him, wanted a honeymoon, went on one,
looked at the gold of her ring as it flashed in the sun;

flew away home to furnish each room of the house,
shuffle his plastic with hers, deal them out in the shops
for cutlery, crockery, dishwashers, bed linen, TV sets,
three-piece suites, stereos, microwaves, telephones,

curtains and mirrors and rugs; shrugged at the cost,
then fixed up a loan, filled up the spare room with boxes
of merchandise, unopened cartons, over-stuffed bags;
went on the Internet, shopped in America, all over Europe,

tapping her credit card numbers all night, ordering
swimming pools, caravans, saunas; when they arrived,
stacked up on the lawn, she fled, took to the streets,
where the lights from the shops ran like paint in the rain,