The Secrets Hidden in a Pear Tree

All my petty sins, so small,
I still think they are important
enough to admit to the pear tree
in the back yard.
I don’t attend church anymore
and I’ve devised my own sacrament
of confession.
I took the Lord’s name in vain.
I said fuck three times.
No one even heard me.
I carried a secret in my womb
after my second child was born.
I wanted more children. I wanted
to become pregnant over and over,
at least six more times.
I wouldn’t have latchkey kids.
I’d stay home, change poopy diapers,
chase toddlers, finger paint and bake
Play-Doh all day long.
I never told anyone,
least of all my husband.
Instead, I told the pear tree
and I took the pill.