When I was nine,
I thought that every time my mom received a new name
That I received it too.
I thought that names were like purple
You can’t forget the red and the blue.
Old names weren’t like gnarled crayons
To be surrendered for the new.
Each new name added to the end,
But they never colored over you.
Each Step- forward my mother took,
I added more.
When she had her maiden,
I had four.
Ramsey, Williams, Gutierrez, Aguilar
They shaped me, molded me,
Colored me in.
She knew where she was going,
I remembered where we'd been.