Task: Acquire a new name.
The golem felt incomplete.
He knew he’d been called, “Golem,”
through the centuries
but longed for a more meaningful name,
or at least one that didn’t remind him
of Tarzan’s son, “Boy.”
He liked Indian names
and thought of “He Who Rises From Earth,”
but discarded that
when a local tribe threatened
to return him to earth prematurely.
Gandhi, Moses, Buddha, Maimonides,
Brad Pitt, Babe Ruth and Rhett Butler were taken,
locked up tight as Crown Jewels.
He looked at names from Pakistan,
Czechoslovakia, and the movie Avatar
but the vowels and consonants
argued with each other like jealous siblings.
The golem listened to a fountain,
thought of “Splash.” Heard some jazz,
called himself, “Waa, Waa, Doeeee.”
Eavesdropped on a man fixing a flat tire
and considered, “Damnitall,”
but discarded it when he introduced himself
to the head of the PTA.
Failing in his task, the golem was transformed
back into dirt.
A passerby found a message scratched
into mud beneath a park bench.
“My name is ‘Mud’ but you can call me ‘Golem.’”
A collection of Ms. Hacker’s poetry is now available on Amazon.
Listening to Night Whistles, Aldrich Press, “A Rose Is a Rose”