In Keeping Secrets
Your mouth is curled into
a curve of mischief.
Sticky-sweet syllables
drip from your lips:
I want to pounce,
lick them up,
a desperate diabetic.
But there’s already winter
laying frost along my veins -
I can’t take the chill
of an ice-water revelation.
One truth would burst the dam:
She was here.
Then, and only then,
would the flood begin.
But a wall of water
wouldn’t matter;
I’m drowning in silence.



Leave a Reply