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On Secrets 

              A found poem from Mary Ruefle’s essay of the same name 

Overhearing the world that neither 

hides itself 

              nor reveals itself, 

I listened carefully. I could hear 

              singing –


The theory behind intimate conversations 

is that we may lose our life. 

Samson loses his hair. 

Faust loses his soul 

                           but gains knowledge. 

Death and destruction or 


              Curse or incantation. 

Folded into notes, the kind you 

used to pass in high school, 

fragments of the prohibited. 

I hid my love because 

religious morality is dependent on 



I was sunk in a desire to observe 

                            the stars, to be held. 

              Embraced privately. 

Just as the astronomer considers 

the universe in his mind.


Repressed, then expressed, 

I knew exactly what I wanted 

and where I wanted it – 

a state of reverberation. 

              To be changed. 



I hesitated 

              in secret, said nothing. 



Sarah Peecher is a poet living and working in Chicago. She is a second-year Creative Writing MFA student at Columbia College Chicago and a Nathan Breitling Poetry Fellow. Her recent work appears or is forthcoming in AlliumBluestem, Blood Tree Literature and FERAL. She also teaches undergraduate writing at Columbia College Chicago.

ISSN 2632-4423

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