a blessing for everything we cannot buy

God, I am told to invest in myself.
You’re worth it.
I should find myself
in the market that owns me.

If you check my billing statements,
I am a monthly subscription
for white noise and sleep stories
and chewable melatonin.

I am a standing grocery order
for dark roast fair-trade beans
and dry, full-bodied Spanish reds.

On a customer-service report somewhere
read aloud in an
air-conditioned boardroom
I represent the value of unlimited
digital access to The New York Times
and Wordle. Mostly Wordle.

But, Lord, this is not the creation story
of gardens and mud made flesh,
and life breathed into
one-click ordering.

Unmake me.
Unmake me.
Unmake me.

Put me to sleep.
Steal another rib
and let me awake to all things
astonishingly unnamed and unknown
by the world I made
in affordable monthly installments.

—Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day!