A Secret Is A Fist

A secret is a fist,
a clenched hand until opened and gone;
and a secret
lasts as long

Lasts as long,
feels strong as a hand when closed
A secret can strike,
though a secret
can’t hold

A fist held tight–
knuckles wrong, knuckles right
If in search of a fight,
take secrets

Hands open wide
beckon a spell; to give,
or a tell
depends so well on the deep blue heart
of a secret