Waterworks

I curse the divine being

who invented the duct:

Rome’s revered creation,

Aztec architectural marvels

which became the lead-lined pipes

in elementary school fountains

which so closely resemble

ducts of my own.

When I was seven,

I searched in a Big Book of “Why?”

“Why do humans cry?”

and the answer is,

no one knows.

We can only guess.

And I am lucky

I’m told

to feel anything at all

But I can’t imagine

that feeling everyone else’s feelings for them

is any better.

Soaking them up like an overfilled sponge

and pretending they won’t spill out later:

a mess to clean up another time.

This burden is no one’s fault

but my own

yet, I curse the divine being

who invented the duct

for allowing me to cry.