they all do laugh when you try

never knowing how to describe
how does it go,
murmur like a heart valve that didn’t separate and
prickling badly like the slimy static sonogram,
cold and messy,
these tears half dried and
your breathing so hard
inhale that you start curtains across the room
and with your that the window blows out exhale
everything mixed gets so up
abject misery starts to sound ticklish.
this is after ms. doe’s
father mother
have died.
how silly you make out your sympathy,
telling your friends,
“I laughed so hard
I thought I couldn’t see to breathe!
If you saw my tears!”
meaning only
“Help, I was crying,”
and you didn’t know what to do.

by Elice Leung

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