Anjali (Poem)

By: Anjali Dhanekula

My name

Has never been too

Kind 

To others.

They always add a 

Disclaimer.

“I’m sorry if 

I say this wrong.”

I’m sorry too.

Start.

Stop.

Try again.

Stop.

One more time.

Stop.

I step in as a 

Courtesy.

The first time,

I laid it out

Like a red carpet.

With a grand flourish,

I declare it loud and clear.

They choke on it.

Like an unexpected chili,

It’s too

Spicy.

It’s water going down

The wrong tube.

I try again,

This time slower.

Elongated.

Syllable by syllable.

“Un–”

“Juh–”

“Lee–”

They trample and trip.

It comes out in

Wary sounds,

A question mark.

The first time

It was a 

Declaration:

Pride.

Now it’s… 

“Hello.”

“I’m Mr. Smith.”

“I’m your teacher.”

“I’ll be taking roll now.”
“Ella”

“Joseph”
“Kyle”

Then,

The anticipated

Pause.

He’s mulling over

How best to approach

It.

“An—”

That’s me!

I interrupt.

That’s me.