I hated my name as a child.
I craved glamour -
Esmeralda was my weapon of choice.
Not this name, mis-pronounced, spellchecked, unruly.
A name sitting dully
Mushroomed to the earth.
Sinuous paths
All gently circled
Back where I started, yet never the same.

Comfortably upholstered the cushions to jump on
The face to the public all rounded and soft
Yet snake-sliver too flickers lewdly
Hinting at less savoury worlds.
Is there a letter missing?
No, no jagged lines to cut through soft flab,
Just something missing,
Scattered fields
Far from home.