renaming

you wrote your name in spaghetti &
fed it to the pigeons. do you remember
the angels you would pass
when you lived in the city
& every day was ghost feed? 
they had signs with options on them.
things to call yourself. "disaster" 
& "dirt" & "deep." sifting in the river
you found the teeth of prehistoric selves.
those selves got their names 
from chewing on geodes. it was a process
of taking apart the skeleton
& looking for a price tag. what 
do you want the fire to call out when
it comes for you? you do not want
to be remembered as the stack of ideas,
"whisk" & "worm" & "wool."  
to become a new name is to step
through an archway & watch 
the world behind you go orpheus 
in the distance. you've never meant
any change to be permanent but then
there you with a butterknife 
& a beautiful face. this was the only option.
you had to race the rats. you had
to cut the old song out
with scissors & feed it to the pigeons.
they then are the last ones
to say your old name & then it is gone.