when grandfather typed

the strike of the j on paper

always left a blur, a shadow

the way your name does when said aloud.
yours, the silent name

a thought word so seldom given breath

that it forms wholly between the lips

and impacts the air more heavily

than those that surround it.
it has not lost its surety

in that way of other words,

their syllables plundered and meaning flayed

by their casual incursions

but that’s because it’s without you.
your name, needing you to fill out its sides

and bring it music. Your name,

never thrown into a room or field,

never curled by a smile,

weighs far more without you.