In Vain

You type
My name
Out in full
Like I will be
Impressed
Flattered
Compelled
But instead
I hear
Your reedy
Whining voice
In my head
Like a trumpet
Of bad memory
Like a gong
Clattering
In a gale
My name
Is too powerful
For you to even
Utter
In your insipid
Siren
Of a voice
I recoil
To think
Of your fat fingers
Smashing
Across a keyboard
To pound
Out four innocent consonants
And two unsuspecting vowel
Leave my name
To shimmer
In the light
That your very presence
Hides
Destroys
Mocks

Sharon Paine August 2015