The Auction

The auctioneer is chanting while
The people pick and chatter over
Relics; weighing with each other
What a vase is worth, a table.

30--I’m bid 30--40--40--
Who’ll bid 40?

Women feeding fretful babies,
Men comparing crops and weather;
Little boys who endlessly wander
Through the labyrinth of legs.

40--I have 40--50--50--
Who’ll bid 50?

Then the story winds among them
How the woman had a daughter
Who was killed. No one was sentenced;
It was hushed; the court dismissed it.

50--I have 50--50--50--
Sold for 50.

Call your name out to the clerk,
Put your name down on the ledger.
Tell the people how you bartered
For a bowl of thistle pattern that was old.

Ladies, gents, I have a pitcher,
Will you start the bid?

Yes, a pitcher, then a table,
Now a bed and next the curtains.
Tear the whole apart with barter,
Wager, gossip, and desire.

A quarter, folks, I have a quarter,
30--30--

Piece by piece a house is plundered
And a life is sold and scattered.
Sold to strangers for a price
By a man who chants a song.