Your Name in F# Major
A flamingo of a man in a pink-blush tux
plunked a single piano key repeatedly
for nearly an hour.
By the end of the evening
I heard such gorgeous silence
and sobbed. My mind
was in brambles and the notes he pecked
all hatched like eggs at once.
Every flap, every cheep
became your name and I became
a mockingbird. I said your name
as if I were your brother and just caught
you snooping in my desk
for the cigarettes I kept hidden.
Then I said your name
with the reverence of a child
learning his mother existed
as before-mother for the first time,
reconciling one identity with another.
Now I say it like we just met,
introduced by a mutual friend
we later admit we never liked.
I’m trying to commit
the syllables to memory
without making it obvious. Hi,
it’s nice to meet you. It’s nice
to see you again. Hi. It’s so nice. Your name.
I say it so often it loses meaning
the way cotton candy dissolves
so humbly and quickly
into a glass of water but the water
is delightfully altered, and I don’t remember
your face anymore
but you’re in the swirl,
and I drink and drink and
stay, please, with me, I am chapped,
chirping, I’m spun, oh sugar, oh
name, oh your name, your
sweet, invisible name.