There was a bit of dust named Alana. by Jesse Nissim

There was a bit of dust named Alana.

Jesse Nissim

She wanted to remain clumped and unseen.
Whenever her shape got too complex
she'd translate her name into another language.
One day when the debris level was high
in her part of the city, she decided to use
the computer bay in the public library
to change her name. This could take
awhile. She sat in the air conditioning
feeling all the teenagers' eyes all over
her bad moodlings that dropped little
particles wherever they went. Maybe
this time she'd go for Yiddish.
Maybe the computer was in a deep freeze
and would make her turn solid for awhile.
Maybe she'd shut her eyes and shout
the name of the color she most wanted
to see behind her eyes, willing her very
nature to change. Stay still and bury
your wants, the color would say.
But I can't stay still, Alana mouthed
back. It's not in my nature.

Jesse Nissim is the author of Day cracks between the bones of the foot (Furniture Press Books, forthcoming in 2015), Where They Would Never Be Invited (Black Radish Books, f orthcoming in 2016), as well as several chapbooks. Her poems have recently appeared in H-NGM-N, New American Writing, La Petite Zine, Women's Studies Quarterly, Shampoo and Spoon River Poetry Review.

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