When she says my name it feels like my skirt flipped up
To check for underwear
Under where my brother hid when I was born,
There are now mousetraps and cricket tape and
He was waiting
To tell my name to the slippery red toes poking off the edge of the bed
To press it to my palm like a pearl pendant on my birthday
He gave me a color, the pale green that comes up from the earth in springtime
Pale green like thick veins almost kissing
Hyperbolically bent under the ripe flesh of my forearm
Pale green like our wilting houseplant and the whites of my eyes
When I say my name it tastes like thick honey
Catching flies on the back of my tongue
Tastes like milk stuck between my teeth
Tastes like picking my skirt up and saying don’t worry
I’m still wearing this
And wishing in my head
That I could wear it like the pearl pendant
So I’d get used to its weight in the hollow of my throat
Even delicate silver would wring my neck
And lick the steel of her boot-toe
And turn my skin green to match the name