Raw Goods Inventory

    Oh， clouds that do not look like cherubs， move over！ My heart

    isn‘t big enough to include you. The crows shit on

    my car every morning， such

    gratuitous little fellows—the things I never asked for. Oh， unrecognized

    genius， the modest beauty wasting from

    illness， the good-kid-turned-bad. Failing

    grade， summer heat. Oh， row of desks I loathed sitting at. In

    school， we hatched chickens from an incubator， eggs

    in rotation， the chicks deformed. One

    with thin chest skin and no ribs—the organs sludged

    and its cheep-cheep cries. The animals my mother made me

    return—the rabbit， the toad， the slug. Oh， child

    tossing a ball alone！ The dandelions are systematically doused

    with chemicals—the chemicals you‘ll sniff

    as a teenager， the brain the unrepining side-kick.

    Dear sister whom I cannot relate to， I surrendered my popsicles

    to you！ Friend who kept my videotapes. Ex-lover，

    you fall so clumsily through old poems. Book， you

    looked better on the shelf！ Oh， the philomaths are paraphrasing

    other people‘s theories， the same dribble！ Numbers and words，

    teleological trinkets that can‘t retain the world. Over

    a thousand monarchs frost-nipped in Mexico—untranslatable

    odor. Oh， sex-drive that won‘t be active forever！ Oh，

    old woman I will someday become！ Take stock now， I say， use

    your flexibility. Stomach stay flat， breasts don‘t droop any time

    soon. Oh， body， you were once small

    and resilient—you could shimmy through

    tight places. Mind， you were sparked； heart， uninjured. I am

    such a thing. Lazy day. Oh， wizened hickory，

    I too grow out of myself.