Friday, December 3, 2010


"Wise one," so say the Irish. My name is gossamery tulle, the N's dancing like awkward, passionate lilacs on an overgrown trellis. It starts with a hush, jumps up and then nests. It smells like rosemary wafting from my neighbors yard. Silky, second hand costumes like plumes to hide in. Soft fabric swaddles a pink baby. My name is sure, patient and elegant.

S tepping on mosaic stones
H osted by the Joyce K Carver Soldotna Library
A peppery taste is in my mouth. I uproot
N asturtiums, binding them together to make a
N ecklace reminding me of my connections
O f quirky family with roadmap veins and trick fingers stored in boxes. Magic tricks
N ever far from my heart.

1 comment:

Shannon Sorensen said...

This is the first time I have ever thought of our name in a positive way outside of its symbolic representation of you or I. Suddenly the name I've carried for 34 years has an independent identity from me that is lovely and adds to my me-ness.