Poetry

Naming day

Is a name really a sound of yourself?

Is it a sound to swap around, change everyday

like putting on a clean top?

Can a stranger see you through your name?

Or only see your name,

bold, italic, underlined. A title.

A head and shoulders of letters, signatures,

a stamp of approval,

a certificate of achievement.

And what of money?

Is your name built of it?

Do people claw and maul,

trying to steal just a little piece?

Or is your name part of your skin,

a map of your life.

Connected, always.

You. Truly, simply, you?