I feed my sorrow
I feed my sorrow spinach
I feed my sorrow eggs
I feed my sorrow sunflowers
I feed my sorrow pineapples and newspapers and trash
There is a cake rising for my sorrow
I feed it opium and I buy Scotch tape for it
I buy batteries for my sorrow
I throw coins at my sorrow
I look at it through binoculars
I throw lavender on the sheets of my sorrow
I burn frankincense for my sorrow
I starch my sorrow
I iron it flat, then I fold it again
I buy blueberries for my sorrow
Like all things, it likes itself
It likes what it is made of
When I want to touch it
I fill the sink with hot water
and add a submarine

Mary Ruefle