I Cry

“Sorrows which find no vent in tears will soon make other organs weep.” -Henry Maudsley

It’s utterly humiliating.  Why
must I be doomed to blubber like a dunce
at anything that moves me?  Never dry
or cool, I’m drowning in the genome pool.

Emotions, down with you!  Get dressed, you sluts!
Behave yourselves — stay covered to the neck.
You’re killing my performance, spilling guts,
indecently parading on the deck.

Bewildered, stunned reactions (vacant eyes
and slackened jaws and shuffled shoes) are fraught
with undertones from all who patronize
with pep talk: “Get a grip. You’re overwrought.”

If weepers ruled the planet, we’d allow
a bit of slack for those who don’t know how.



2002 Mary Boren
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The No-see-’em Museum

I’ll set my feelings on a shelf and dust them every day,
instead of keeping to myself what’s always in my way.
With tempered glass to shield each board, I’ll string a fancy rope
across the aisle to hold the horde at bay. (Or so I hope.)

I’ll post a guard on either side and charge a hefty sum
to enter, then discreetly hide and watch the tourists come.
In front will hang a placard saying, “Look, but DO NOT TOUCH,
and anyone caught disobeying now owes twice as much.”

But what if I am left alone and no one wants to pay
the asking price to gaze upon Emotional Display?
I guess I’ll take the show with me while traipsing here and there,
and pass my feelings out for free to anyone who’d care.



1995 Mary Boren
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