in my native language, this is my name.

it means "Cannibal Woman"

it is well deserved

I am chickasaw.

A
name
is
selected for her,
but felt,
deep down,
like
only
familiar chains.

I have several names.

My first was the name
my mother wielded,
but she later conceded
I had an earlier name,
a longer name
that my father gave me,
a name borrowed
from the long dead,
the name authorities
would know me by.

And later, you adorned me
with shorter, snappier names -
names loaded with love
names that could be sung
and in which I took comfort
and pride.

When as a student I arrived,
wheeling cases through customs,
I saw the linguistic gymnastics
reflected in their eyes
but I kept silent and smiled,
lest they felt they fell short
lest they sensed that I found fault
in their command
of each element of my name.

But the truth is I hold
my true names elsewhere,
in my place of song and friendships
far from these shores.

I have several names
and accumulate more each year
as I spare acquaintances
the shame of verbal stumbles.

I have several names,
but I know who I am
with you.

The heat is strong,
It won’t be long,
Till the storm comes rolling in.
The clouds will cry
In drizzled sighs
Reflecting mirrored sin.
Down in Hell City
Where Hell hath sent me
And help’s consuming time
When twilight beams
In the morning star
So high up it’s near divine.