Memories of an Absent Cousin; or, Don't Cry, It's Just a Joke

I imagine that your eyebrows

crept across your forehead,

eyelids creeping after

and pupils dilating due to

rays of realization.

Your malleable little lips bent

beneath the heat of joy, 
a beaten bow by humor's hammer

holding up your dimples.

And you shook with the sheer force

of the shenanigan until you couldn't

hold it back, your breath bursting

from your lungs, lips leaking air
as though you were a loose balloon.