Antiques

See dazzling bowls and vessels, pots of brass Old copper kettles, cups of gold, and chiming clock Porcelain statuettes, fake Tiffanies, stained glass Oak storage towers, ivories of High Baroque Stroll down the antiques on Sunday noon I’m fascinated by the scarab sooty bronze I lost my face inside the silver spoon In tapestries of life, with nymphs and fauns We’ve changed, in this abundance of disclosure Now I’m a voluntary slave on remnant sale That figurine of steadfast tin soldier Ready to burn for nothing in your tale.