by Luke Samuel Yates

I keep forgetting what my name is.
Yes. When people ask me for it
I pause, embarrassed, wait for my family
or friends to explain.

The day before yesterday I had to complete a form.
My eyes filled with tears. I went next door,
looked myself up in their phone book.

I resorted to leaving my name on pieces of paper,
sticking them up around the house.
The kids think it’s funny, though,
to put up random names all over the place.

The doctor doesn’t have a clue.
He puts me on antibiotics for ear ache,
asks me if I have late nights.
I have recently thought

There may have been something pagan
going on the day I was christened.