
AUCTIONS ARE PART of my rural DNA. As such, a photo I took ten years ago of an auction barn on the edge of Montgomery, Minnesota, inspired me to write a poem. I entered “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn” in the 2014 The Talking Stick writing competition. It earned second place in poetry and publication in The Talking Stick 23, Symmetry, a literary journal published by the northern Minnesota-based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. It also earned the praise of noted Minnesota poet and poetry judge Margaret Hasse. She’s authored six full-length collections of poetry.
First, my poem:
Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn
Shoulder brushes shoulder as bidders settle onto plank benches
in the tightness of the arched roof auction barn,
oil stains shadowing the cement beneath their soles,
where a farmer once greased wheel bearings on his Case tractor.
The auctioneer chants in a steady cadence
that mesmerizes, sways the faithful fellowship
to raise hands, nod heads, tip bidding cards
in reverent respect of an aged rural liturgy.
Red Wing crock, cane back rocker, a Jacob’s ladder quilt,
Aunt Mary’s treasured steamer trunk, weathered oars—
goods of yesteryear coveted by those who commune here,
sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.
In her critique of my poem, Hasse wrote:
“I loved how you turned a humdrum occasion of bidding on antiques in an old barn into a closely observed and luminous occasion. The writer John Ciiardi once wrote that close and careful observation can “leak a ghost.” The surprise of your poem was the elevation of a commercial or material enterprise into a spiritual gathering—with a fellowship, liturgy, reverent respect, and people who commune. The ending—visual and concrete—was just right. The poet Franklin Brainerd wrote a poem something to the effect, “in a world of crystal goblets, I come with my paper cup.” There’s something both unpretentious and appealing about “sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.”
Hasse’s comment reflects that she understands the spirit and spirituality of my poem. It was a joy to write. As I recall, the words flowed easily from my brain to keyboard to screen as I visualized bidders inside that auction barn, like congregants in a church. When poetry works like that, it’s magical and fulfilling and beyond beautiful.
© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Poem copyrighted in 2014


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