Jul/Aug 2006 Poetry |
Nomenclature
My mother's name is Hester,
as was her mother's,
and her mother's mother's.I asked her once
why she didn't carry
the tradition through
and she answered,
"I wouldn't do that to you."I was grateful.
Surely, I would have been teased,
as she was,
though not for the same reasons.
I mean, nobody really reads anymore.But here I am
in the back of this pickup truck with you,
fulfilling my destiny anyway.