From the archives — Refusals — Catherine Rogers

Refusals

I.

In the dream
we are
as once we were,
holding each other,
shy and young.

I ask you to name
this thing you have done.
Your lips part,
but the February wind
sweeps in and takes
your breath.

Each night I unravel
your choice.
Each morning I wake
to your death.

II.

It will not yield. Not on this side.
It never does. I have tried
to pick the lock, to press
the secret spring, to guess
the password. I have knocked
and cried till all my voice was air.
And still I stand and stare

at my small, bruised hands.
At this great stone door.

by Catherine Rogers

from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 1, March 2006

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim