My Name
Don’t take my name
On your tongue
And apply it after
Your first,
Your middle...
Don’t join it with
Your last
With a dash-
Forget its existence.
I’ve grown sick
At the sight of my
Own name-
I’m afraid
That anything
Following it
WIll contain
A fragment of
Some part of me
I don’t want
Brought
Back to the
Lime-light;
My signature
Implies
A certain kind
Of
Carelessness-
Sloppy penmanship
Floating
Just above the line
And I can’t even
Recognize
Any letters at all,
Anymore,
In it.
I want to erase
My name-
Give me yours
In place of it-
I’ve already
Learned
How to spell it
Correctly,
Can already
Define each rough
Touch of pen
To parchment
Clearly
With its own
Gentle,
Caressing curve,
Can already see
Your smile
In the way the
Ink
Dries
To the paper;
My name
Is an act
Of
Disappearance,
A decision to
Forget
My past
And look only
Toward the rest of the
Words
Scrawled
On the page
Below-
So no,
Don’t take my name.
I myself don’t even want it,
Anymore.
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