[Turner Cassity]

Women's Work


Twelve dollars took the box of antique lace
and linens, as the hasty gavel fell.
Later at home unpacking, she can tell
she got a bargain: finely crocheted place
mats, quaint embroidered guest towels, napkins, heaps
of doilies, table runners -- all hand-done.
A woman's work of hours contrived each one
only to wrap and pack away for keeps.
The auctioneer had sketched a few brief clues:
a country homestead, maybe a trousseau
left in a trunk a century ago.
And after all, they're much too good to use.
She smoothes away the wrinkles, lays the best
on top, and stores them in her cedar chest.



Comments:

Competent, but this poem does not really attempt much.