an exercise from my creative writing workshop:
tell me your name
tell me your real name (what you feel your name should be)
what animal is inside you? explain.
what is inside your heart?
what is written on your forehead?
what sound do you love?
what sound do you hate?
what smell do you love?
what smell do you hate?
what is your favorite time of day?
if your hands could talk, what would they say?
what is a memory from your childhood?
a saying you remember from childhood told by your parents or grandparents
mispronounced yiddish saying, careening towards forced meaning
but no other name would seem as fitting
none other as true
a cat, halted before domestication, climbing, clawing
retracted, fur refined
fishing net cased around the heart
supposed protection from fumbled expression
unaware of open, without force
almost quite comfortable closed
"patience" is written on the callous of skin
the horizon of the head
always a day before
(or years, decades, even more)
the crunching sound of leaves,
bites into metal forks
firewood burning, coffee brewing
rubber tires screech and burning
twilight, when sun hits
the yellow tree in the yard
before the darkness of night
my hands already grasp at words
reaching for the door
childhood under tables
wanting to be more
wear it in good health
(but nothing more)