He Laughed

And there’s the laughter of agreement --
a mid-range chuckle, more smile than sound,
your shoulders lift a bit, just short of a shrug,
then you relax into its lack of an aftermath.

And, of course, there’s the serendipitous laugh
you stumble on, out of context, as if a storm,
the weatherman predicted, doesn’t come true,
and you go out instead, pick a flower or two.

And then there’s the laugh that signifies serenity --
a melodic sound, the sound the word laugh
makes when you say it softly, keep it close by
like something almost too good to share.

And there’s the careful, uncomfortable laugh
you fill the silence with, before any other reply
occurs to you, just as if you had to claim it, like
embarrassing luggage, or a borrowed top hat.

And there’s always the laughter of contempt
with its wide range of sound and harm –
in close it touches just you, then a few, then more,
from the slightest snicker to the loudest roar.

And there’s the dark laugh of sorrow, the last laugh,
if you will, the lightest response to the trouble
that absorbs us so quickly, so easily, the loneliest
sound we’ll ever hear ourselves make – just listen.

-- J. K. Durick