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I thought I knew what envy was When I threw that stupid fit when I was seven While my sister who didn’t like to draw Won the art contest, instead of me. I thought I knew what envy was On a Monday, when I was thirteen and pimpled While my best friend’s face   Was smooth, caked with foundation. I thought I knew what envy was   The summer before senior year taking tests While after it all we compared scores, And I wondered what I could’ve done better.   I thought I knew what envy was That it was quick, and runny in passing That it was something that slips, slurped down your throat Vindictive and vicious   But cured: by making them cookies. I thought I knew what envy was— But I didn’t. Envy is not smooth, but sticks Stopped, stuck in your throat Stagnant, it chokes.   Envy is not green, but grey You bat it away But the fog overstays Its welcome. Envy is not thin, but fat A wall—and for all of your gall You cannot peek over. Envy does not look out Through narrow, hot eyes   Shifting gazes, suspicious   With hisses and cries It doesn’t pace up and down And beg you to listen— Envy is silent. You can’t say, “Do you hear it?”   I thought I knew what envy was   When I was twelve, in Sunday school White ribbons and smooth skirts Under verses of thou shalt not covet--- But oh man, I didn’t.
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Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
I Thought I Knew What Envy Was
I thought I knew what envy was When I threw that stupid fit when I was seven While my sister who didn’t like to draw Won the art contest, instead of me. I thought I knew what envy was On a Monday, when I was thirteen and pimpled While my best friend’s face   Was smooth, caked with foundation. I thought I knew what envy was   The summer before senior year taking tests While after it all we compared scores, And I wondered what I could’ve done better.   I thought I knew what envy was That it was quick, and runny in passing That it was something that slips, slurped down your throat Vindictive and vicious   But cured: by making them cookies. I thought I knew what envy was— But I didn’t. Envy is not smooth, but sticks Stopped, stuck in your throat Stagnant, it chokes.   Envy is not green, but grey You bat it away But the fog overstays Its welcome. Envy is not thin, but fat A wall—and for all of your gall You cannot peek over. Envy does not look out Through narrow, hot eyes   Shifting gazes, suspicious   With hisses and cries It doesn’t pace up and down And beg you to listen— Envy is silent. You can’t say, “Do you hear it?”   I thought I knew what envy was   When I was twelve, in Sunday school White ribbons and smooth skirts Under verses of thou shalt not covet--- But oh man, I didn’t.
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I am her eyes I am his nose I am her losing things (She’ll never know) I have his shades of brown I have her chin I have his serious And both of their grin Artist, writer, father, mother Dreams in words, dreams in color Clung together Years another Handed to an eldest daughter.
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Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 10:32 PM UTC
parents
I am her eyes I am his nose I am her losing things (She’ll never know) I have his shades of brown I have her chin I have his serious And both of their grin Artist, writer, father, mother Dreams in words, dreams in color Clung together Years another Handed to an eldest daughter.
Continue reading...
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