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.