What I Know of Secrets

It is their nature to stay
hidden for as long as they can.

It is the one burning gaze 
out of a face, in a row of girls

dressed as men to partner another
row of girls dressed as themselves—

my mother's among them, the image 
of pulchritude in a flounced skirt

and beaded top. I've seen this 
picture only once or twice. But I 

know very little about the one with 
the burning gaze—only that she rode

a bus from the town they were from 
in the north, almost every week, 

even after my mother had married. 
After she was married, I don't think

my father knew all her secrets either.
Both my parents died later in life

of natural causes—lingering illness 
combined with age. I tried searching 

online for records of that other death, 
in our home, one night in '64 or '65; 

there are none. But medical information 
confirms that mixing a rodenticide 

with coffee will not neutralize 
the poison. It will still be toxic.