In the halflight come the halfmen carrying their mirrorware
Their gew-gaws, their fairings and crystal
Cushions gaping their stuffing, all is muffled and hefty
At this candlelit sale.
White elephant of thought, auction of shivering
Shackled by feeling, the body’s old memories
A gavel comes down
A drachma, a pfennig, a shilling to smash it!
How much is this fruitbowl?
How much is half of it worth?