In a Name

Tell me your real name,you staring back through the windows of my soul.Mother was heavily sedatedwhen she labeled you,but here we areliving up to the antiquitiesof a foreign nouncollecting adjectivesevery dayfrom those who meet us,know us,and sometimes never like us.What do you want to be calledin avoidance of the perceptiona parent insanely applied …for who is Mildred America?She won’t live up to those nounsanymorethan sweet names that linger inside the tongue,sliding off to make pretty soundswith simple syllables.Mildred America…what was she thinking,or did she not think at all?How does one live to the reverenceof such hard soundsthat hide within initials of truth.When I place my Millie A.no one imagines a continent sitswithin the first and last namewaiting to be explored.So tell me,you there, in the mirror,what would you like to be called todaybesides “Lovable,”“Funny,”“Dharma,”or “Friend?”