Yesterday I found I had lost my name.
I remembered having it,
holding it in my hand —
it was so bright, it burned like sunfire
(surely, I remember it so bright) —
I sent out my soul in the form of three crows
to find it.
I had not lost it after all —
waking in the middle of the night
I put my hand on it;
of course it was where I left it.
it was mine, certain, but not as I remembered.
Not burning bright, but dark;
lustrous, smooth, weightier than I had thought.
I shall have to learn my name again.
for now, I sit in the dark and turn it in my hand,
waiting for the flutter of wings at the window;
my soul, returning with some shining thing
it found in the world.