I thought you had to dread someone
to need him. I thought
you had to be forgotten to love completely.
I would have abandoned everything I loved
to be loved back.
It wasn’t my rage that divided me, not
my name. There was no symmetry
to how my being split—
Half flesh, half compulsion.
The spinning wheel, my heart,
turned literal and beat.
Parts of my thumbs still gold.
You will never be loved the way you want to be loved.
To impress you, I did your work.
To stay anonymous, I would have hurt you.
I would have peopled the earth with barns
for you to let me fill.
Even god is not exempt from harm, fearing
he’s not the only one.
At a certain point, everyone will be an only
child. How many
are there now that have my name?