Names
Shell of a human, it is the grim case.
Hell, can it be named with an outline so faint?
Empty fingerprints, it pressed against my lips
Aching with request, though read more like insist.
. . .
Moses too forgot, just as shapes and shadows cannot define it.
Even in regret I cannot stop, no it put my tongue on it.
“Nose dive,” the pigeon sang, “Just scream it.”
“Do not hesitate, finger the letters that describe it.”
Eager, sometimes I shed this skin like blood, but it is never enough to seal it.
Let them know your real name, that one word, and I will damn it.
. . .
I could name you, in truth, but that power within my mouth wanes
As if I alone could call each blade of grass.
No, it must name it. Until then, it does not deserve even this.