Xerophthalmia

(Poetry Scales 52)    

His eyes remain dry
But not because he doesn’t need to cry

Bones soaked in vinegar
Fail to hold up a frame
Weighed down by decades of shame

Who was it that taught him the essence of manhood
Is miscommunication
Repression, suppression, and obfuscation?
Whoever it may have been
He knew exactly where to look
When it came to his sons and grandsons

Ignored and alone
Vast catalogues of emotions,
Thoughts, and memories come surging back
With no one to share, to hear, to cry

And it’s not that he doesn’t have tears to shed
But his eyes remain dry