Wash

Wash my name clean from your skin

it’s time

you wore it like a coat you didn’t enjoy

and dyed it all your favourite colours

and the ones that the fabric wouldn’t take

were kept unseen

and when it questioned your values you tore at its sleeves

shredding the fabric beneath your nails

but nails regrow

but torn is torn

with no incentive to sew it new

and one day you removed it entirely and spread it beneath your feet

to finally trample down its being

to mould it to the earth

as your feet are so accustomed to doing

worn like a pelt

in honour of your suzerainty

closer to your spirit than ever before

your irreverence undeniable

unhidable

but when you wore it again after, you adorned yourself unknowingly in its dirt

that

can never be washed clean

from either of us

even when a name leaves

and there is not even a whisper left of its being

so go

find a new name and wear it like a new coat

and dye its warp

and dye its weft

and tear at its sleeves

until there is nothing left

again

but shreds.

JP Collins