He had a name.

He has an eponym.

It is still deeply rooted

in the center of my heart.

And though I try

not to utter his name,

play with the two syllables,

my heart echoes it

from some mystical place

I can never reach.


He has a name.

It is a noun

and every so often

it carries an adjective,

attaching a memory

to the few small letters.

Sometimes they are loving words,

others not so sweet….


If every man I’ve loved

clung so tightly

I would have drowned

in an ocean of

descriptive despair

full of letters and sounds.


But he had a name.

He has a beautiful pseudonym.

I can’t seem to release it

to the vastness of the universe

because it returns,

boomeranged with force,

periodically into my words,

smiling in its relief.


His name is implanted,

crisscrossed into mine,

for what seems a forever

and ever of a lifetime.

14 thoughts on “Namesake

  1. I had to go to the dictionary to find the meaning of the word “eponym” — it’s a word I’d never seen, let alone heard, before — so you taught me something new this morning. Now, as for the poem itself, I love it! It’s thoughtful, and thought provoking. It makes me wonder who this mystery man is…and I love the mystery!

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