i rarely say no when i mean yes.

the case is never that i'd like you to see through

what i say to what i mean.

when i leave the door unlocked all night

after saying "don't come in,"

it is because of trust

not because my body doesn't know what it wants.

the body doesn't know what it wants,

a thief scaling a wall constructed

around your house to keep out thieves–

finding itself unable to steal, it leaves by the gate

and has only taken the pride invested in security.

you spend the day grayly, in the garden

or at the damp foot of the wall, hoping they'll return

so everything they have of yours is in the wall again.

i used to cringe when i watched my mother let yes happen

on top of no.

jaw clenched, not repeating herself out of pride

or exasperation. defeat born of a refusal to fight.

my father slides from no to yes

without batting an eyelash.

when you cross the line, it's crossed, and he moves on alone.

no, we say, and that's as far as it goes.

some lose with their eyes close, other cast them down,

or turn away. resolute to dissolute.

the choice made by not defending it.

i say no when i mean no, and if you come up,

and take a yes out

from under the mattress, i'm not going to ask

for it back, or start locking the windows.

keep it, it's yours if it means something to you

dead and out of context

no, then yes