My Name

Hours at the sweaty courthouse and the DMV.
So sick of hearing my countrymen deface my name.

Classified postwar papers in a manila folder.
What marks me member of a rootless race? My name.

Genetics, history, hermaphroditic longings:
the unexotic poisons with which I lace my name.

You'll never see me in a gauzy wedding dress.
Myself's the only man who could replace my name.

Digging through dusty hoards of ancient Lydian gold,
I hear a leonine roar. It's time to face my name.