As Is

By Nicholas Friedman Nicholas Friedman
Just north of town, a quaint Sargasso Sea
for bric-a-brac: the barn, itself antique,
spills over with a grab-bag panoply
of outworn stock revalued as “unique.”
Typewriters tall as headstones fill the loft
where they’ve been ricked away like sacks of grain;
a coffer yawns the must of oak—gone soft—
when one man, squinting, lifts the lid to feign
intrigue. Nearby, his wife surveys the smalls:
art deco bangles bright as harpsichords,
a glut of iron trivets, Christmas balls,
Depression glass and warping Ouija boards.
One man’s junk is another’s all the same.
They don’t buy much, but that’s not why they came.

This poem first appeared in PN Review.

Source: Poetry (November 2012).

MORE FROM THIS ISSUE

This poem originally appeared in the November 2012 issue of Poetry magazine

November 2012
 Nicholas  Friedman

Biography

Nicholas Friedman currently lives in Ithaca, New York, where he is a lecturer for Cornell University.

Continue reading this biography

Poetic Terms Sonnet

Report a problem with this poem


Your results will be limited to content that appeared in Poetry magazine.

Search Every Issue of Poetry

Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

This poem has learning resources.

This poem is good for children.

This poem has related video.

This poem has related audio.