Hermetic - Aug 2 2026

Hermetic

Aug 2 2026

I guard my privacy

remain inscrutable.

I am a blank slate;

I might tempt them to project

but give nothing away.

Behind the curtain

closed door

high walls.

Behind the steely silence

that doesn't break.

But while curtains can be drawn

doors locked

and walls are impervious to light

faces give themselves away.

There's the clenched jaw

furrowed brow

haunted look in the eyes,

small beads of sweat

wiped furtively off.

Silence speaks loudly

when you carefully watch.

The door creaks shut

curtains swish

walls loom.

It's dark inside.

The silence is deafening.

Not autobiographical. There’s nothing embarrassing in my search history, no bodies buried in the backyard! 

But I glanced at an article and “behind the curtain” caught my eye. It struck me as a promising first line. (Where it didn’t end up staying.)

And after all, a lot does go on behind closed doors. That thought sometimes occurs to me walking down a quiet suburban street and looking at the succession of closed doors and darkened windows. Who knows how others live? What goes on, what secrets are kept?