Sport 42: 2014
Names
Names
The words for places, flora,
fauna, fit my mouth oddly.
I say them with care
as if driving a car I do not
own. That is the purpose
of a name, I suppose.
A place is not a thing, a
name is not a thing; things
are tarpaulins, kettles, piles
of wood, folding chairs, pens,
paper, ropes, glasses, hearing aids.
When I miss her, I find myself
missing the box of her curling
picture books, her threadbare
pillow case and flannel sunhat.
Her hair would fade in summer
and lose its softness, I know.
But the missing has to be done
on an angle. I can see the books
more easily than her face
and I still won’t say her name.