At the Auction

At the Auction

this is what it
must feel like
to be up for auction
at Sothebys
or at the county farm
to be scrutinized
under a monocled eye
and misunderstood by
the nouveaux experts
of nothing
who argue, convince, speak
or firmly make up their minds
about that which they know naught
it doesn’t matters if you are
the finest antique
or merely a butter churn
you may have once been
part of a priceless unbreakable collection
or a basic necessity
inglorious but secure as a mainstay
but at the auctioneers block
they hold you up
now they are comparing
and contrasting
judging your worth
and then stripping you of it
all that matters
is that someone bids
with a bang of the gavel
the item goes
to the highest bidder
he might have liked the antique
but is mighty proud now
of his prize
and as the butter churn
is wheeled away
it too pities
the Picasso left at the bloc