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Recorded for Poem-a-Day, April 1, 2016.
About this Poem 

“I think naming is a very strange thing. We name books, babies, boats, planets, monuments, buildings, towns, chemical elements, food, and animals—we give lovers and friends nicknames to show our devotion. A name really doesn’t matter until it does, and this poem is about that.”
—Dorothea Lasky    

There Is No Name Yet

Until I find a name
I will not put it in the soul calculator
I will leave it free and open and unnamed
And not limit my expectations for the kind of person
That goes in one direction of the wind
I will keep all lines of the wind open
And place all my days free and empty
And re-envision what it means to be unencumbered
Or bereft
Not crying but the expanse of numbers
That go beyond the grave to what is left
And it may be true
I said it could be true
That the sunny days do stick to walls
And then enter you
It may be true that the purple bells do chime
Everyday you let them
It may be true that the sweet juice
I put across my lips would not be my last
But that the nights could get better and better
Until the evil is banished until the day
When the sun would crush it anyway
It was true without a set of things like letters
It was true the air was free and open
And I saw things as they were
Without violence
For the first time

Copyright © 2016 by Dorothea Lasky. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 1, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.

Copyright © 2016 by Dorothea Lasky. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 1, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.

Dorothea Lasky

Dorothea Lasky

Born on March 27, 1978, in St. Louis, Missouri, Dorothea Lasky received her BA from Washington University.

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I would tell her
Except she wouldn't care
I'd write him
Except he'd never write me back
There is a rat they left hanging
I'd save it
Except it's dead
What is the force that swirls me
I asked of the wind
There was no reply
It was beyond me
And I was floating in

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