“I thought I would die if my name didn't
touch me, or only with its very end, leaving
the inside open to so many feelers
like chance rain pouring down from the clouds."
~Rosmarie Waldrop, CURVES TO THE APPLE
it is eating me up alive, it is hard
to recognize,
i can barely remember my own face
if it touches me, it’s like nursing
a wounded hero and describing the battle
from the thieves point of view
it is very muscular, strong, funny, smart
but also can make no mistakes
about carrying me away
i can’t figure out if it’s
really touching me or not,
but doesn’t every girl
at some point
let someone else figure it out
don’t let anyone touch, use, or even mess
with your name, it gets fuzzy,
looks like a blemish people
can’t take their eyes off of
i can’t let it touch me or it may be real
that’s why i do this
that’s why my hands are turning clear,
when i fold clean laundry, my name
becomes dirty all over again
i think i should really rewrite it
and make it clearer or more heartfelt,
less arthritic, double plastic, it’s creepy:
i get gaggy and sick and heated and
i wanna puke, i’m more comfortable
with the glue on most stickers
i can’t get over my fear of small, dirty
pieces of paper, letters—god
help me—i recognize it
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