Refusal

It hasn't stopped raining since Tuesday.

The gutters are choked with wet leaves.

I saw the picture in the paper today—

the wrap-around porch, the high gables,

the place I thought was my only chance.

It’s hollowed out now. Black soot

streaking the white siding like tears.

The roof is gone.

I remember how I begged for it,

kneeling on the linoleum in the dark

asking for a key that never came.

My face is in the window glass now,

pale and slightly blurred by the rain.

I look relieved. I look like a thief

who got away with something

simply by being told no.