from White Monkey [32.]

Translated by Christian Gullette

What’s in a name? she asks,

with her blonde hair,

ponytail,

and blue-eyed gaze,

her memories of summer cottages,

rhyming clues for Christmas gifts and debates over Finland’s

official languages.

“What’s in a name?”

She says

we ought to take my mother’s name

and pave the way for the future.

To show the name belongs

on book covers

and voting ballots.

And not just on the sign above an ethnic restaurant.

Easy for her to say, my mother says.

“She doesn’t bear the burden of the name like you do.

For her, the name is a sign of goodness,

of virtue,

a silk ribbon that leaves no trace 

when she removes it.”

 

I say change is always painful,

someone has to be the first.

Then it’ll have to be someone else, she says.

Can’t the name be one of my virtues? I ask.

She says,

You’ll just be their monkey.