It’s a thrill to say No.
The way it smothers
everything that beckons―
Any baby in a crib
will meet No’s palm
on its mouth.
And nothing sweet
can ever happen
―
to No―
who holds your tongue captive
behind your teeth, whose breath
whets the edge
―
of the guillotine―
N, head of Team Nothing,
and anti-ovum O.
And so the pit can never
engender
―
the cherry―
in No, who has drilled a hole
inside your body―
No.
Say it out loud.
Why do you love the hole
No makes.
Copyright © 2017 by Dana Levin. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 9, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.