...

dual power

You're sharpening my name on a whetstone,
looking up at me and winking.
You're taking my other name and doing me a favor.
All the while I reach into my pocket and feel the edges of my other name.
That one's my favorite,
but I don't say it out loud.

I take my name, my name, and my name to the park to get them some fresh air.
One heads straight to the swingset
the other throws a tantrum in the parking lot
the other stays in my pocket. Forget the park, we're going home.

When we arrive the house is empty.
My names sit at the table
hands clasped, whispering grace
while their meals get cold.
The backyard looks through the window
and shudders,
spotted with pockmarks.
That damn dog is at it again,
or it's that damn groundhog, keeps
ripping up the tulips.

I'm going to make a collect call
to god herself
and weep into the receiver.
No one is eating dinner until I hang up.
I'm not going anywhere until you come
home.

Dial tone hymns reverberate
through the kitchen.
The walls are sighing
you're taking your sweet time.
Come home already.
My names are screaming that dinner is ruined and it's all my fault.
Pathetic portions sit on chipped plates
gathering dust, scratching our throats.
The tap has run dry. I'm ad libbing prayers.
God isn't picking up.
I'm locking the door behind me.