Secrets—

tiny eggs we harbor like illegal

fugitives in the nests behind our

rib cages.

They hatch, rattle the bars,

demand to come out, breathe in

the scent of reality, bathe in it.

But some baby birds need to

learn to fly before they leave.

Secrets need to learn how to live

in a world where they are baptized

in silence and nested in solitude.

And some baby birds find they

have no wings. And they try to

fly anyway. But all they can do is

fidget and scramble as their

bodies fry like a yolk on the

pavement, the sun of truth drying

them up.

 

 

 

 

Julia Dobel is a sixteen-year-old from New Jersey who’s been writing poetry for the past three years. Other than writing, she can be found obsessing over Grey’s Anatomy and Parks and Rec or listening to Demi Lovato and One Direction. Most days, she’s on Tumblr as well. Follow her at juliaconstellations.tumblr.com.