In fairy stories
true names have power.
I discover them
on crumpled paper between
the bras and cereal.
“Chili powder, diapers, tampons,”
on the back of a receipt;
or, “fixadent, turnips, beer,”
in meticulous cursive
on pink paper.
Sustenance
and sanitation;
turnips and toilet paper,
greeting cards and waste baskets.
These things
shape us.
Edit: I fixed the grammatical problem Callie mentions in her comment. Education? I has it.
Dad loaned me his phone once,
and I changed the voice-mail message.
Then, when I gave it back,
he never changed it back.
I would call him and get
myself.
Now all I can call on
to get him
is me,
and when I open my mouth
and his words fall out
I am thankful.
Note: The OSI topic was change but I didn't really look at the page close and thought it was thanks and so this isn't really an OSI poem, but it's what I wrote this week anyway.
