Poetry and Poetics
KEEPER OF SECRETS
By fair means or foul, they track you down:
those escaped from the lips of strangers
those handed to you on a leash, as though
your ears were cages, secure.
Here’s the dirt on a good friend’s mother.
How can this good friend still
not know? And Gossip, now yours to release
or lock up forever, tugs, tugs: Tell!
Here’s the pride of another
mother: You’ll never know what I
put up with, all those years. And three years
after her death, without being called, Sudden
Insight, snarling, sidles
into the pack.
What to do when a foreigner tells you what
she told another: if he’s abusive, and law
won’t let you divorce, this method:
so easy and safe, it leaves no trace.
Bad dogs, bad dogs, I never
asked to own you and now
must keep you from harm
the rest of my life.
© by Ingrid Wendt
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