My name is not
a poet’s name.
It doesn’t flow like
honey off the tongue,
the sweet aftertaste
hanging on the tip
like a dew drop.
I want a name like
Oliver,
tied to the earth.
Steadfast and honest.
Or
Angelou,
A name with wings
that soars out of your mouth
when you say it.
Or
Harjo,
heavy like the
beat of a heart.
Reflective as the night.
I want a name so bright
I can turn the moon.
Catherine Buercklin is a contemporary poet who enjoys collaborating with other writers and artists. She’s a sucker for anything covered in chocolate and refuses to choose sides in the coffee vs. tea debate, as she loves them both equally. She feels most at home sitting outside watching birds and imagining what it’s like to live under a mushroom. She lives in Conway with her banjo-lovin’ husband, Aaron, and her feisty, but loveable cat, Winnifred.
