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.