power

You said my name the other day—

not addressing me, of course, but in reference to

someone or something else—

but I heard it, through a circus of noises.

It jarred me and it pleased me, hearing the image of

your lips and tongue and teeth measuring out the vowels and consonants

Into three heaping syllables that equal me.

I say your name, too, sometimes.

Never near you—

where you could hear it and think on

the intimacy of your name residing in my brain and 
slipping out and off my tongue—

but quietly and 
only when I am alone.

Maybe someday, I will find out what our names sound like

together.