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Poem: Passing Secrets 

I could say

something.

But I haven't.

Not even in all the years since we have been grown

and on our so-called own.


Just say I

had you

out of my body.

And that it is only biology and didn't stop me from treating

you like a pawn ticket.


Tell you I

had you

out of my body,

which doesn't mean anything either.

or I'm sorry, though it's too over for apologies.


Just say I

missed you

all those times

I settled.

I don't have call you "my daughter," after I say I gave birth to you.


I could:

tell you

I prefer facts

murky the way they are, or tell you the truth,

or tell you the lie I was coming back for you.

  • A poem by Cheryl Clarke.

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