BEHIND THE BLOCK: Auction poetry – ‘Antique Mannequin’ and ‘My Epitaph’
I sometimes personify the merchandise that comes through my auction gallery. I make no conscious effort to do so. It’s just that sometimes I can’t help but see a cheerful chair… a hopeless chest… an amorous figurine… a spiteful mirror… a lonely locket… a mischievous doll… Indeed, sometimes I see so much humanity in the stuff from estates that I am moved to verse, as I was many years ago when I composed this simple poem…
disgraced and weathered,
tarries naked and wigless.
No blouse caresses her buoyant breasts.
No stockings slink over her long legs.
Hard composition and rigid… frigid…
with a wing bolt in her ass.
And being an auctioneer, I regularly deal with the property of those who have passed on. I am therefore persistently reminded of the transience of human beings, of the brevity of life. So it was one morning, when I was traveling to work and composed this simple poem in my head. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I had composed my own epitaph…
I will have been a cloud
that by some chance
was recognized by someone
as resembling something –
Until, by the same winds that formed me,
I am dispersed.
Read some more auction-inspired poetry here.