A name is a title.
There’s so much that needs to come out from recent events all jumbled and cluttered.
Scattered magazines of my mothers.
My child holding my thumb.
Paying the rent and memories of mum.
Mostly it’s fairness and expectation.
Hard work and piss poor delegation.
I had to stop until the anger was wasted.
I know deep down it’s all about Tracy.
I never used your name before in something public.
It feels good to bring you to life.
A hundred ways a metaphor.
Only one god damn knife.
© G.P Williamson 2018