a contrapuntal after “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction” by Ursula K. Le Guin, 1986
you can explain
why it’s funny it’s more of a feeling a fish without eyes you start giggling before the punchline knock knock you try to keep still but your laugh is a firework held in your full body all the ways you type out the sound of your cackle the tidal rhythms of an inside joke blanketing your day softer now as a nickname with a long story have you heard the one about interrupting or how times flies louder than slapstick or cherry tomatoes a meme from you tweaked tapping out little hearts talking with your hands the punctuation of limbs a wink and a nod against a void strangers in the dark who swoon with the same joy catching your breath let this be the craft of life to laugh so much you become that sound |
your every kiss
like a daffodil’s life-span sped-up through the air led by the sun’s compass for another good morning someone’s knuckles against the back of your neck as they braid your hair to hold and be sweet is a human thing XO at the end of your emails in case you ever forget each goodbye between you and the whole world a jean jacket well-worn by all your best friends these public displays of affection the clatter as you share an umbrella the dance floor’s wide pulse a basketball passed to you and thrown back with a glance of fingers surgery gloves blue in your chest elbows linked in elbows for a chain against a drone your people on the subway carrying a stroller upstairs together your root not as a more perfect weapon but steadying yourself on someone else balance as they almost fall too |