Psychology [Poetry]

This is a poem by Jenny McBride. 


My ex-husband works

in a bookstore and he says

the psychology section is always

messed up.

Books crammed on the shelf

into spaces where they don’t fit,

piled into disarrays of discrepancy,

anxiety, futility, confusion,

heaps of frustration,

jumbles of psychic pain,

wayward errors of identity

While the yoga and self-help sections

remain quietly tidy.

Jenny McBride’s writing has appeared in Star 82 Review, The Rappahannock Review, Green Social Thought, Streetwise, Conclave, and other journals.  She makes her home in the rain forest of southeast Alaska.


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