By Joseph Hesch
I have a name that’s all too forgettable,
always mispronounced, misspelled,
and just missed on every level.
My stifled sneeze of a monicker
has been turned on me
by bullying boys, wicked women
and the depressed poet
on the thinking end of this pen.
But it’s mine, shared by damn few others
from sea to sea, forest to desert, and H to h.
Even the nameless can be remembered
in their near invisibility–a picture or symbol
attached to history by what
they accomplished, more than by
a plastic placeholder for letters identifying
the substance behind the soubriquet.
So I don’t worry too much about whether
you remember my name…
Just remember me.