A Name Spells Itself

he is a bitter river of white

running through me “Jay” becomes “Walter”. a small 

gift I’ve learned to appreciate. 

his way of saying you worth 

my lions and what I eclipse.

what I say outloud and who I

become in the darkest sky. and I guess

that’s why I’m here. in this car. my name

stretching across my face. your name

expanding inside your hands. I want the

memoir of you- warm, curved moon rock

obsessed with drooling sun beams I

want you. Walter. and the pulse of him

jaw beaming on the passenger 

side ready to swallow the dark. 

fifteen minutes before Walter 

is a knee jerk and howl away 

from leaving me near the closest bus

stop, he knew my name- the one

Ronnie ribboned at highland hospital

a gift to myself I suppose. I’ve been

he was a gift, as was I. and each moan was

our names reincarnate. and we reveled in

the music of us over an Oakland skyline.

the sun setting again, and again, and again

but today my name was mine 

despite me forgetting it often. 

somedays I be more atlas 

than heartbeat, the pangea 

of me spread across the bay 

in a jay’s palm, taye’s parking 

lot. rell’s condom. even my own

stomach. a name becomes

a legend. fear becomes the story

of forgetting or remembering 

what I forgot. but today my 

name learns to spell itself 

outloud. each letter of the 

body strung by a litany of 

wave caps, and oil sheen. 

praises washed out by beatings

and bridges I didn’t jump.

told him I write poems. I told him I’m

trying to learn to love without shame, fly

Joshua Merchant, a Black Queer (they / them) native of East Oakland explores the realm of love. They’ve had the honor to be awarded the 2023 San Francisco Foundation / Nomadic Press Literary Award for poetry and was nominated for the 2023 Best of the Net Poetry Award by Spare Parts Lit.