This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.

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I knew at a very young age that I never
wanted to be yours.

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.

---

When you use my name

You, too, are giving life to the promise my mother held in her heart for me before I was born. An ancient inclination of who my body would become: a star bright baby with her thumb in her mouth. Easy as the breeze, a content disposition. I came to earth but never left heaven.

When I use my name 

I am chanting myself home, back to me, complete. Third person isn’t the number three.

She’s just me.

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, 17, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,

twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty,

thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty,

forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty,

fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty,

sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine,

seventy, seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty,

eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety,

ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred