Identity

I have a name.

I can't remember it anymore, but

I have one. I know how your lips

shape it, the pull & pucker, the

press of tongue to teeth to form

a phoneme I should recognize but

don't. I know the feel of it, so

warm and effortless when spilled

against my skin. It haunts me, a

ghost of who I was before I knew

the ecstasy of your exclamation,

the epiphany in your exultation,

the way every invocation becomes

yes.

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