SO LONG, SALLY BALL

by Sally Ball

We played a party game, each of us proposing (in writing) a new name for whoever’s turn had come: an alter-ego, the protagonist version of that friend, one-by-one around the table.… And passed the tiny tabs of paper to their subject, who read them out and chose a favorite, something lushly them, lusciously idealized. My names never won. I couldn’t get them large and real enough at once. 

And yet, months later, in my wallet, this quarter-inch rectangle, worn and soft. Green blades of ink!

One syllable the same; same total number of sounds but more dramatic assonance. Saga Shaw.

My real last name’s a noun; my new first name is. 

Not a sneeze, sagashew— (godblessyou—)

Hard on the land wears the strong sea: it seems that kind of name, someone toughing things out instead of brooding.

Echoes of what she saw (her eyes); and maybe of a saw, with teeth. 

Shorn name, wise name, 

or maybe 

      she’s savoring the ways she’s put-upon? 

No. Anyone who bears it withstands what comes, strides forward onward toward the far horizon of this island—sturdy and unhurried, don’t you think? 

Onslaught = banal wrinkle in the forward motion unto triumph!

—unto the fields

of sun and lilies 

and forget-me-nots—

Saga, I would welcome your intrusion      occupation      rule

of law 

rule of lavish strengths

Hurry up! Someone is calling.

Sally Ball is the author of three books of poems, most recently Hold Sway. She’s a professor of English and director of creative writing at ASU, and a faculty member in the Warren Wilson College MFA Program for Writers. She’s also the associate director of Four Way Books.