My Name

My name is Nancy

I remind them gently -

every day

clad in maroon scrubs,

tired smiles

Hands like windy waterfalls

part my lips

replace blurred agitation

with a misty labyrinth

neatly packaged into cool pills.

My name is Nancy

She has a window.

It’s not my window

but at night

this Body

weightless

floats through the filmy

partition that can’t shroud

her screams. I swirl

past her bed

press my hand

against the soft Hawaiian night.

My name is Nancy

the woman reminds them

on edge over shoulders

into the fluorescent maze.

Her hand laces over mine

her daughter covers the other,

Wide blue eyes seeking a home

my tubes won’t flood.

The oral scrapbook unfolds,

pills knocked

from my side and mind

My name is Nancy

my voice tires with repetition

they can not hear me

over her screams

over the names she

hurls knocked

from the air

like model planes

my father built me

out of his workshop

with his hands

With departure gates

on the horizon,

I wonder where they flew to.

My name is Nancy

they will not hear me

over the clash

of this Finger’s gold band

I used to wear before

the years rusted away our polish

exposing it’s true color,

the color of thrones

the color of a King.

Is that why they use this Name -

to match faded expectations

with the yellowed walls?

My name is Nancy

like my body I feel it

slipping from my hands,

my grip on my world

my small world

on this small island.

But I am not so small

as to let Mrs. King

take it away wrapped

in maroon scrubs

wearing a tired smile.
 

My name is Nancy

this is my world

this is my time

this is my hand

reaching out to take it.

I am not my body

I am not my marriage

I am myself - my name

Nancy King