Mirror Sonnet: JOB at the Garage Sale

“ . . . Though he heap up silver like dust and store away mounds of clothing, What he has stored the just man shall wear, and the innocent shall divide the silver.”
—Jb 27:13-17

“Perhaps you’d reconsider what that’s worth.
That is my wedding silver, dim with time.
One polishing will give a shining birth
to what has faded with neglect and grime.
What’s that you ask? No, not divorce. She died.
That was my wife’s vase. Sure, a dollar’s fine.
That lamp there could be fixed. I never tried.
The house is on the market. See the sign?”
Dear God, they pick through memories like trash,
and point at what they want and bargain down.
They cart away my life for crumpled cash.
They spread news of foreclosure through the town.
Dear God, my brokenness is yours, in crumbs.
They are like ants, feeding, where forfeit comes.

They are like ants, feeding, where forfeit comes.
Dear God, my brokenness is yours, in crumbs.
They spread news of foreclosure through the town.
They cart away my life for crumpled cash,
and point at what they want, and bargain down.
Dear God, they pick through memories like trash.
“The house is on the market. See the sign?
That lamp there could be fixed. I never tried.
That was my wife’s vase. Sure, a dollar’s fine.
What’s that you ask? No, not divorce. She died.
To what has faded with neglect and grime,
one polishing will give a shining birth.
That is my wedding silver, dim with time;
perhaps you’d reconsider what that’s worth.”