Enough of Tears

I’ve had enough of tears. Sometimes I cry
Because a dog gets hurt, just in a book,
Or some sad character has told the cook
To give up cabbage rolls; a lullaby
Sung to a baby; hoping to reply
To these attacks but too afraid to look
Where they came from. I sighed, my shoulders shook,
Then I gave in to futile weeping. Why?

It’s not compassion, but it’s not abstract feelings,
This stupid crying. I’d be cold as ice
If only I could turn off this device,
These wet ducts, sadness and the onion peelings,
The chance to reconcile, the honest dealings,
The crooks, the devils. Stop. I’ve done this twice.