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?