written by: Michael Ball
I am one. Am I the only one
who revels in the dolor…
of a single tear, burning and
salty, cutting its path down
my right cheek chinward?
An abrupt rivulet like a massive
raindrop on the windowpane.
I am perhaps past-ripe and showing
trivial joys at grandsons
(or even over dog antics) and
surely to soft words in passing
from a spouse of time-shrouded years.
And time triggered…time was
it took lust or anger or other passion
to squeeze that single drop falling
from uvea to cheek to philtrum.
Only a few drops from an eye fill
that mythic groove above the lip,
that vile vial reserved for a love potion.
Yes, shuffling toward dotage, I rejoice
in a tear expelled by command of my heart.
Let it trace a sincere feeling on my face.
As there is no shame in honest work,
there can be none in displayed emotion.
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