i write “Derrick” in a love poem,
thinking this means people may fall
for,
thinking people other than me are,
sometimes sideways and once,
a small placing like hands or chalk lines,
once tipping over like names that don’t come from,
once naming something inside a person who feels empty.
one time, “maybe people will fall in love with you.”
somewhere, buried in my closet.
somewhere, only my cat knows how to arrive.
sometime, forgetting who it really was.
a certain kind of shimmy, once two-fold, once the better half.
the name, only halfway.
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