The Name Rests on the Page

The name rests on the page

               not quite at ease

               a child’s first attempt at replicating five letters with

               hesitantly shaped silver-gray trails of graphite

The name rests on the page

               smiling tentatively in light pink marker

               satisfied to look upon an outline of triangles and circles that

unmistakably depict a group of four, a family

The name rests on the page

               slim letters, angled at a careful thirty-degree slant

connecting and flowing, one into the next

               yearning for the beauty of effortlessness

The name rests on the page

               untarnished by ink smears

each stroke strong and well-defined

placed by a hand clenched so tightly that all trembling has long been stifled

The name rests on the page

               signed with a singular flourish

               belying any slight nudging of doubt that protests such an

               irrevocable, binding contract

The lines disintegrate, trailing the remnants of logic and reason

She hides her shaking hands, resting them on tabletops and railings

She no longer writes, for the letters are uneven and malformed

Only a small voice is audible, establishing itself in the immediacy of the present until

Fin. The name rests on the page, the letters precisely uniform in height and width, printed in black raised type. There are no signatures in obituaries.