Burying the Name

Burying the Name
My name is somewhere
between my hand and my heart.
My name means nothing 
because of where
it comes from,  no familiar
place to find comfort in.
The world echoes 
into nothing but is something.
A world with no recognition
of color, no classification
of death, and streets filled
with people I have forgotten.
I dream up poems thick
as mayonnaise.  Cross my 
heart and hope no one dies 
before they hear the words
I meant to say.
Talking out loud to no one
does not constitute a cleansing
of one’s conscience.  I have
relegated the dead into particles
of matter because the dead
were the ones who mattered most.
All these things left 
undone, with no place
to grieve.  Burying
my name was the easiest part.
– Andrea Beltran

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