Being Wise (Poetry)

You ask me and I’m wondering if I
should tell you all, or just a small white lie —
for truth, served whole, might instantly offend
my once so trusted, old and dearest friend.

I’ve been tempted, I’ll admit, to turn away,
pretend I’m deaf to what the rumours say,
convince myself I’ve never seen or heard
a shred of evidence — no little bird

has filled my head with doubt, betrayed the news
that you’ve been seen together. I could choose
to play the innocent or spill the beans,
unleash this can of worms and risk the screams.

You don’t know what I know but might suspect
I’m not so dumb, for even fools detect
those little indications things are wrong
but wisely keep the peace and string along.

You tried, I bet, but couldn’t quite resist
his longing glance, one brief, illicit kiss —
it worked on you just as it did on me
and left an aftertaste of jealousy.

So you ask me (and your voice suggests remorse)
if he and I are thinking of divorce.
I shrug, allow a frown to crease my brow —
maybe I’ll keep you guessing, just for now.