TAPESTRY

 

It is like emotions are something
you wear on your sleeve, he said,
picking at threads of sadness, trying
to pry them from the fabric
of the moment, never understanding
they were the warp of his existence,
joy and laughter, compassion
and empathy the weft.
She said, that is only
an illusion, and you know
that illusions are not real.
She held his hand, smoothed
the fabric, tucking away
the odd thread, hoping that he
wouldn’t pull at the selvage
and be forced to watch the
happiness of their relationship
unravel before her eyes.

TOOTHLESS BODHISATTVA

He will tell you
that the distance
between a tear
and a laugh
is the span
of a mother’s arm.
He knows the duration
of sadness is identical
to a shnork*.
He cannot understand
how you could
have forgotten all this.
He doesn’t know
why you cannot recall
that enlightenment is
no more than a giggle.

*shnork (n.): the sound a grandfather makes as his nose approaches,  then just touches that of his infant grandson.