Cry, Do You? Poem by Tony Kemp

You don’t, do you?
Cry, do you?
You don’t. Imagine!
Not to have those waters well up,
a reservoir dammed and held;
until at last, via ducts, they slowly seep
to fill the eyes,
and hold awhile; fluid lenses,
menisci,
films clinging as spectacles
which, at once,
magnify and clarify,
momentarily.

You don’t, do you?
Cry, do you?
Just think!
To hold and hold
and hold awhile until
the bubbles burst,
torrents of heartsprings,
an uncontrollable lavaflow,
outpourings of days lost in
the mists of time,
moments now blurred
those salted tears,
the consequences
of all those years.

But you don’t, do you?
Cry, do you?
You see things clearly
through unclouded, squeaky-clean
windowlene windows.
No need for visualaids,
those molten glasses.
A view so clear, a vision so near.
No fears. No fear.
No.
You don’t, do you?
Cry, do you?
Do you?