Odds and Ends

There are only odds and ends here:
once treasured vase,
now a yawning, flower-less mouth;
that seductive copy of Bovary,
now stood up among true crime pulp;
the lustrous tea set, garlanded like a smiling bride,
now, chipped enamel, faded china plate;
an unspoken encomium smuggled into Christmas wrap,
now, a ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug offering its fretted lip.

‘Dead Peoples Stuff for Sale’,
grave grim grammar
hawking this hoard,
missing
apostrophe,
exclamation,
and
full stop.