… shhh, don’t tell
it never goes well…..
Most days move as they do
in the houses you pass
They work,
make dinner, feed kids
check math
He is coach, fixes bikes,
she sings in the choir
they do the routine
they find their beds
Most days move as they should
but sometimes don’t,
they know that they won’t
And when days fail or
take flight
they’ve learned what to do
what to take
who to call
and not to tell you
It’s a disorder–
a puzzle to sort til it fits
into normal, boring
Everyone knows someone
whose mind is singing
too high, too low, in too many voices
but makes an art
of finding the tune
or the harmony
You know a someone
but not who
they know not to tell you
Who do you let your child go to
the house with two dads
or the mom with a mistrusted mind
although she’s been boring,
for years seemed normal
the doubt is seducing
you know, you know
She cannot say
he cannot tell you
what’s the proof he’s safe
or she’s sane
Once you know
nothing changes
and everything does
and so, they know
not to tell you