decrees that every Jew

    must buy his wedding-right

    in unsold porcelain¹

    from the royal chinaworks，

    here he stands， an amorous² Jew，

    gazing at luminous³

    suns and moons arrayed

    on doths of velvet-blue，

    earth that has married fire twice，

    that has been shaped and named

    for what it comprehends： sherbets， salads，

    gravies⁴， desserts. He lifts a platter fine

    as alabaster⁵ in cathedral windows：

    salvation⁶， the passage of light

    through bone. Ah， but

    not for you， the store-man says.

    Closeted， in shipping⁷ crates⁸

    are pieces no one else will buy

    baboon⁹ fops in feathered caps，

    chimpanzees in petticoats.

    Visitors will later testify，

    his home was comfortable，

    despite the china apes

    peering from every corner.