This is apparently a topic that my sub or unconscious has been waiting to get an opening for because it is the idea that keeps on giving, even when I’m not trying.  If you check out NaPoWriMo2018 – day 12 and NaPoWriMo2018 – day 24, you will see the precursors to today’s offering.  I’m not complaining.  I love it when I don’t have to sweat over the day’s poem.

1.

The box on the counter is red, symmetrical, gold leafed with a tiny locked latch – perfect for folding secrets into, tiny papers with tiny print, story pebbles that make the box shush like a little rattle with little room for movement or like waves on sand at low tide when all the ocean’s mysteries are revealed.

2.

The secret sat between us like war, like something alive, bound us together, tore us apart, grew like enchanted vines smothering the castle.  If I don’t ask, will you still tell?

3.

Is there a secret anywhere that is safe?

4.

Outside my window the pond fills from hard rain, toads ringing the edge in full bass songs answered by “knee-deep” tenor frogs singing from lily pads like a well-worn cliches as water skimmers skitter across the surface carrying secret messages  among them.  In the pine branches overhead a sharp-shinned hawk watches with yellow eyes.  Should I sound a warning?  or keep silent?

5.

Underground things stir.  Green leaves begin their journey to the sun.  All winter they lie in darkness like dreaming children.  You can’t see them.  Not yet.

6.

Secrets rise up in my throat like tears, knock against the back of my teeth asking for escape, spill out of my mouth in piles of words:  fear, longing, shame, pleasure.  The Shadows sitting across the table from me stare, unsure of why they are here – I would name them but then they might stay.