Estate Auction (revised)

They arrive early - farmers and
families with kids in bare feet - to graze
rows of boxes before bidding starts.
Dad twirls his mustache on the porch
gnaws a tooth pick
eyes the auctioneer testing the
microphone.
"They can have it all." he says
with a heavy hand on my back.

We watch him sell grandma's church clothes
to a woman no one knows. His tongue flutters
through consonants like a frayed tarp
on a passing semi.
"Dish and cup set! Good condition!"
numbered cards flash high through autumn air
tethered by stained farmer fingers.

"Clock, still runs! Starting bids at 20 dollars!"
Highest bidder.
All to the highest bidder.
Yup! and Yup! and Yup! and Yup!
until all is sold
and the strangers disperse
as though from Babylon,
carrying pieces of a century,
of a family, leaving only
the plump,black ants
circling unblossomed peonies,
and lilac petals
falling into unkempt grass.