What the Second Name Costs

Middle-name field. The cursor blinked.

I'd filled in first and last and stopped

at the second one—the one I've never

asked about. The one that dropped

into my life at birth and stayed

without explanation. The one who chose it

is gone now, seven years in March.

The one who's left just said: he liked the sound of it.

Which is an answer. Barely.

I've had this name my whole life—

leases, tax returns, one marriage,

the divorce. The name. The knife

of not knowing whose idea it was,

whose thought it was to give it.

The pen sat on the desk unused.

The cursor blinked. I didn't fix it.