We are all, Tidying Up, materialists,

unabashed hoarders, newly abashed,

dwarfed by piles of clothes

we couldn’t sell for fifty cents

from our garages or yards,

yet clinging to them all, and cramming

them into closets and drawers,

because we might get skinny, or fat,

or finally be invited to a party.

Keep what brings you joy, she says,

but we can’t recognize that spark.

What is joy? What is joy?

And, where do we go

to find joy again?