Of Diamonds and Toads (Revision)

[just mercedes]

I swallowed the secret
that swims in my stomach
like a school of darting tadpoles.
These words we speak when we must

not speak.

So, we make up stories. Once

there was a child who sang diamonds
and another who croaked toads.
We nod our heads, impatient for the moral,
as when we wait for dessert after dinner—
sweet to cover the bitter, sweet
to make us forget.

Truth burns inside with a blue flame
like sulfur on my fingertips.
This is the secret I cannot tell:
there are not two children but one.

You are long dead
and my tongue still roils
beneath this sediment.

Hi Todd - I enjoyed the read, and the build-up of mystery. Some of the imagery is really strong (...as when we wait for dessert after dinner, ... the image of a school of darting tadploes ...). I like the use of white space, too, showing me the 'not speaking'. The only real problem I have is with the 'truth burns inside me' image. For me it doesn't sit well with the tadpoles. Also, are your fingers now inside you? I also think 'truth' could be replaced by a concrete object, 'your face' maybe, or 'your voice'. 'sediment' sticks, for me. Maybe rethink that final word. But a good involving poem, thank you for the read. 

When I saw the title I'd just read it on Duotrope - your poem would make a worthy entry there! http://www.fairytalemagazine.com/