For the women, I know my
name. I know it is mine – it came from somewhere,
someone else, but now I’ve said it too, and
I say it over and over to myself like a
promise, and meaning changes
as it does when you say any word over
and over again. You see it differently,
hear the syllables like a strange
language. It counters what I
thought would happen – I thought
repetition would breed familiarity, but
all I have in my mouth are
letters now, they’ve been tumbled enough
and now the glue can’t hold them
like before. I say them, now, however I
choose. I add new letters and take
them out again. Now I think, I
am finished – it will stay like this
forever, the way
you said it first, how it goes.
Now I think, I will see what happens.
Now I think, I want –

I want this for the women. My name,
me, myself, knowing this, for the
women. So I can keep coming back. So
I can remember now and now and
now. So I can add my own
syllables, someday. So I can
show them that it is mine.

11/05/2011

Posted on 11/08/2011
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