I have been called many names
almost never the ones I was christened
which still sound foolish and foreign
fitting me like new, starchy clothes
and I sometimes forget they are mine.
angles inside where I was and am
delicate, gentle, velvetkind, mysterious,
beautiful, voluptuous, sensitive.
behind my back, over emails
overheard in whispered tones
implied, indicated, intimated, insinuated.
Men in particular felt the need to qualify
comment and evaluate regarding
weight and clothing, hair and style,
fatigue and makeup, wrinkles and bulges
never noticing rivers streaming within
as they turned away, nudging elbows
exchanging smirk for stare
names given to dwarves of fable
descriptors rather than names
fully inaccurate
on any given day
but maybe by the hour:
Dimwit, Nitwit, Halfwit, dull witted
thin, sickly, Blondie, Dizzy, dumb, Trouble,
cold, cruel, coarse, conceited
eccentric, Clown, peculiar, brazen
Fatty, Fool, flaky, flat, frigid
contrary all
standing before
a closet of costumes
and mirror trying to find that
which would make
me
less
me
then wearying
resigned to title and label
badge and identity.
theft of that which once was
now
a happy hermit
I stay within the parameters of safety
the mirror and the masquerade quitted.
I venture nowhere
where others might
judge if I am really sick
wonder if I might die pretty soon
or not.
if I have wrinkles in my clothes or skin
in high heels or walking shoes,
I regain my stride
aplenty names writhe in my mind
on slow delete and erase
while I invent anew, and reach erstwhile
ones that could fit
I can replay a pristine set
ascends
Til one unsullied
Ah…I will always love this poem. I wonder what I might name myself if I had the choice.
There is always time to rename ones self. If only in ones own realm.