I could not sleep last night
I was woken up by their yelling
I tried to ignore it as tears streamed gently
Down my closed eyelids
Then pounding on my door
I timidly step out of bed
Smoke rolling he screams that he cannot do it anymore

I am paralyzed
What am I supposed to say
I curl up in a ball
Retreat
retreat
retreat
re --

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.

A stew of slow cookers
sit simmering
slowly brewing a communal stock,
seaping steam and aromas
which speak a seductive welcome
from doorstep to table
and whisper a warm, rich reassurance
that this is home

Forbidden to speak out their minds,
people walk around with muzzles.
They don't want to get no fines.
so they got solved like puzzles.

The government doesn't care for their children.
They only wish to make money from the pandemic.
at the cost of ruining the life of their grandchildren.
Apocalypse is honored like a something totemic.

When will this madness end and we begin to live normal lives?
Calm lives where all of us get the truth without lies.

Near a river blue and clear
Birds chirping is all I hear
Sitting on a grassy hill
Chicken cooking on the grill
My family is there
We all sit in a square
We share the food equally
And have the food peacefully
Then we have a treat
Which is really sweet
At the end of the day
We all drove away
~29/3/21