—BUY A LOT OF THINGS TO
FEEL A LOT OF UGLY
hey jealousy
i suspected
the robins were jealous
pulling their cracked eggs
uphill
without a cart gluey egg yolk dripping everywhere
that same day or years
before a well-intentioned bulimic
on the moon
sent me a postcard written
in hopelandic with
a worn-down sylvia plath stamp addressed
to ha ha
ha i suppose life’s unfair
for most people the unforged answers are all
about semantics and
sacrifice sometimes there is humor
in isolation and
despair finding a shady spot where
no one can hear
see you rearranging the coat closet with
each mop and broom so
well-mannered erect
obedient desiccated this morning i s wept up every stray web and feather
in the attic and
made a bouquet using
the sharpest quills i’d
found there that’s how i could
be so certain the robins were
jealous that it wasn’t just me plucking out
the worst bits of my soul in
the quiet quaking dark
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