Envy is a worm
by Marge Piercy
Envy is a worm, perhaps green
or maybe just a dull depressed grey.
It enters friendships like a borer
whose pale grub digs into the pumpkin
that looks whole and hale, but cut
it and the stench of rot arises
and brown liquid gushes out.
Envy eats the glad moment from
within, so it collapses on itself.
Envy despises love as a fool.
The troubles of others give envy
powerful strobe light orgasms
with aftershocks of delight.
Obituaries it devours like thrillers.
Once give it a home and it nests
there in your core, your shrinking
heart. It leaches your days dim
with a diseased rain dripping
acid. No one is so dear or close
they cannot wake its cold dragon
from the dank cave where it sleeps.
Copyright © 2011 by Marge Piercy.
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