Privacy - poem

Progressive, The, Oct, 1998 by Devorah Major

privacy in thought or deed

is sold as ugly now,

something suspect

probably immoral.

in these cable, video,

satellite hooked up-to-the-minute

24/7 newsy days a year,

privacy has become

a grunt in the army

of no distinction

the sordid secret

off color, slanted, unknown fact

about which others insinuate

and sneer offering too much concern

for the subject of what goes on

behind your shades

under your covers

in the back of your closed doors

in the corners of your mind

which is to say in private

if not always alone.

so privacy have to go

somewhere else to live

reaching the end and start

of its cycle at the same time

a lone tone breathed into the sunset

the whistle of collapsing foam

the quiet splendor of privacy

looking for a shelter

in the wellspace of your palm

and the darkness of your laugh.