No

Do you still love him? he asks.

No.  Her voice is too quick—

not an answer, a reflex,

a stiffened spine

at the sound of a cracking whip.

It’s only one line to memorize.

She’s a good actress.

He won’t know—

he will believe No

because who would ever believe

Yes?

Her eyes aren’t hard when she says it.

They could be the color

of stones

and twice as cold.

Her jaw is set,

tight like

that hand crushing her heart—

but he can’t see that.

You’re trying too hard,

he wants to say.

Why do you need to lie?

He watches her hands.

They tremble

Quiver

like his stomach.

He wants to grasp them.

Stop.

Cover them.  Brown folded over white

like precious lace

packed carefully

in brown paper.

But he is afraid

that she will say No

Again

and mean it.