Listen.
Do you want,
Lennon asked
or was it McCartney,
to know a secret?
Of course you do.
Who wouldn’t?
Access to closed knowledge,
you’re all ears.
A stillness hovers ...
then pow– you’re in the know!
Your eyes rocket
back in your head,
hands flutter up
to your lower face.
Unlike gossip,
top secrets stun.
Gossip you weigh up,
not whether to tell
but who to tell first.
Gossip wants out.
Secrets burrow in
and fester.
No longer are you
gladhandler.
Some secrets are so tight
they cling to the secretist
but the best secrets
– and the worst – are shared
with just one other,
setting up a bond, a deal,
compromising the receiver.
There are good secrets of course,
surprise parties and whatnot
but bad secrets outsizzle them.
Are there ever good grounds
for secret spilling?
Is the Pope a Catholic!
All bets are off
for secrets thrust upon.
Loyalties recalibrate
when closet skeletons
spill into light.
O Secrets,
you world topplers.
bw
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