April 12, 2009
Christina Socorro Yovovich: “The Name Others Know”
The Name Others Know
Last night I dreamt a name; Heartsease,
a weed growing in hard soil. I pulled me up
by the root, stripped me nameless.
When I woke, I named myself the Pause Between
The First and Second Ring of the Telephone.
Then, after breakfast,
the Sip of Coffee from an Empty Cup.
On my way to the bus stop, I met a man reeling
down the sidewalk. He clutched a red purse.
He leaned in close, boozy breath whispering,
“You’re as big as a house.” He shouted
“You must have five husbands!”
Five Husbands became my brand new name.
I was Five Husbands in Bermuda Shorts and Floppy Hats.
I was Five Husbands Mowing Five Front Lawns.
I was Five Husbands Waiting for the Bus.
Only when I reached my work, did I take on the name
others know. Only when I said hello, good morning,
how are you, did I stop going by Any Name at All.
—Christina Socorro Yovovich, 2007
Published in Earthships: A New Mecca Poetry Collection