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.
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