I learned my name was not my name.
I was not myself. Myself
resembles something else
that had nothing to do with me, except
I am again the child with too many questions
as old as light. I am always learning the same thing:
one day all this will only be memory.
One day soon. For no good reason.
Excerpt from “Cento for the Night I Said, ‘I Love You’”: The excerpt is comprised entirely of lines borrowed from the following poets (in order of appearance): Carl Phillips, Robert Hayden, Eavan Boland, Anne Waldman, Dorianne Laux, Natasha Trethewey, Eric Gamalinda, Galway Kinnell and John Murillo.