Your Subtitle text
No
by Sandra Hoben
You underestimated me
the way an inexperienced lawyer
might underestimate the time. The judge
lets him talk. The clock ticks to five,
then one minute past. In the docket,
the city clerk signs into overtime.
But the lawyer goes on, taken
with the music of his own voice.
He pleads for more money, more time,
even more starched white shirts.
But the judge has the last word: he’s read
all the papers and heard nothing new.
Men have offered me Paris,
gold pins from Tiffany’s, advanced degrees.
One offered the locked door of a '57 Chevy
and I’ll get you outta this, just gimme the keys.
I watched his hands as he tried
to say what he wanted to do to me.
Another jammed me the words of John Keats
as a charm against kept promises.
But I opened the door and got out.
I jogged past the shadow under the street light.
At fifteen, I rolled the log-weight of my brother
off of me, and in the morning slipped
the wrapped condom back under his bedroom door.
So what makes you think
I’d say yes to you?
