Is the week where I did

Nothing Right. Reminded at each

moment, each turn of my head,

each lifting of my eyes

toward the speaker’s face,

how I had failed

to attain perfection

in the perfect diet. Not enough

calcium the nurse said without test.

The scale turned to me and said

I didn’t exercise often enough

and lacked both the minutes and heart

rate of perfection.

My employee pointed out

my typo and disheveled stacks of papers

and how I should not kill so many trees.

I turned and opened 7 emails

telling me replies overdue

recalculate projections, and create a new policy.

Promote our organization’s anniversary.

My daughter explained it was my fault

she slept in

And my son told me to go away, too close.

The post office delivered proof

I don’t make enough money,

bills a-piling.

My professor said my paper

was not quite good enough.

But you told me thanks

for the chai tea

and to screw them all.


This poem was inspired by the daily challenges individuals face that are unnecessarily troublesome. Be there good health, good food, safety, and wealth, yet still it is not enough for the daily critics of the unimportant; despite the attainment of so much, the perfection is unseen by some.


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