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.
