—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