Simple Refrain

(or, Upon Reading ‘Ella Mason and Her Eleven Cats’)
I have learned to keep my secrets like Ella and her eleven cats,
As if shuttered against hurricane season and a gossiping ear.
People make queries that disregard the gender of the spinster created.
Though only words, for no good reason my answer takes forever
Because nothing is secret that is already heard.

I wrote a letter to Miss Sylvia in the shape of a song
While i was locked out of my house. My front step was a podium,
My pen a Pandora box. How could she have known that
I had just spent another sleepless night, ready to explode
A razor’s edge away from my fears?
Because nothing is secret that is already heard.

When i set that one down on paper
I was pretending my thoughts were clouds that fade away.
But i have found that if i keep them bottled up they distill down
To a simple refrain.

I’ve never really owned 11 of anything — maybe more
Or less, though. I can surely count my secrets on less than
Ten fingers and just one toe, but i’d rather just send them
Back Home.