it just rolls off her tongue.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
The phone rings. She doesn’t
answer. A knock at the door.
She doesn’t rise. Unless
she wishes to. When she gets to work
and they say, Can you, please,
she says, Thank you. No.
When offered another job,
she says, No. Asked to lead
a committee, join a board,
volunteer, she says
no, no, no, no, no.
And smiles.
It’s not hard.
It rhymes with grow.
That night, in the mirror
she looks at herself
and says yes. That smile
on her face leaps
out of the reflection
and asks her to dance.
They sway
in the light of the moon.