self-portrait as an antique shop

haggle for my face.
a cardboard box full of 
black & white photographs
of long dead families. 
a glass case full of rust-laden
18th century syringes. 
do not touch. please feel free
to pick things up & look around.
beanie babies in a bath tub. 
this chest has never been unlocked
& there might be a treasure inside
or else a quilt that smells like 
women's work. needle point.
stork scissors. a manual on 
how to be a wife. yellowing pages.
is that your best offer? here are 
my pocketknives. 
moth wing odors. a pile
of vinyl records with no mouth
to fit them into. does it have
a price tag? does it have
a memory? is this faux fur or 
the afterlife of a real fox?
mounted heads of bears.
carnival glass. uranium glass. 
bifocals that are said to have been
worn by a prophet. 
the bones of a priest. let me show you
what else i have in the back.
history has a way of leaving debris.
my ribs as punch bowl ladles. 
that part is not for sale. 
no, i'm not sure where it's from
or even how old it is.