by Gauri Sarang
My tragedy is not worth your time.
It lacks the finese and polish of a 'real' tragedy.
No Grecian grandeur of betrayed passions.
It is a commonplace crib of day-to-day living.
My tragedy is my name
A name that a million others share with me.
A name that easily lends itself to mispronounciation on foreign tongues.
A name that sends shivers down my spine when you say it.
Lustily, greedily almost, I perk up
A cactus flower after the desert rain.
Bright, defined, loud and gaudy!
My name, the way you say it, makes me real
Makes my tragedy real
My tragedy of never hearing my name dance on your delicious tongue.