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Incessantly sneezing in the gray dust
they raid her home, rifle through her fine things,
tread the worn carpet, crack ancient locked doors
and analyze her in tiny price tags.
For years they spied on the lonely widow
while she hid in the shadows of maples,
elms, willows and a single live oak tree
as the overgrown bushes shielded her.
Now they spread the word of her grand estate:
rooms and rooms of fine china and antiques,
then invade, searching through unknown treasures
for a hidden jewel or some ancient wonder
each one skulking away with a booty,
a trinket or two, unusual vase.
Then the plundering hordes tear her apart
paying mere pennies for each faded piece.
Strong feeling of life's end, of desolation, and of the unimportance of the material.
really convey that sense one gets at garage sales of someone's life scattered for everyone to pick and poke through. I agree with the comment that this could be tightened up a bit, and I think it should be "rifle," not "rifled" to keep the present tense consistent. Great subject though and well presented.
First stanza is really good. The poem needs to be tightened up -- try cutting a few words here and there.
I never did like going to garage sales; they're so personal. At least on eBay you don't have to look eye-to-eye buying their treasure/junk. I think "Incessantly" should be dropped/replaced to make a strong poem stronger. The last stanza is my favorite with its stimulating word choices. Very good poem, thank you.