His name followedher around everywhere,slipping out of well-meaning mouths,tumbling forth from familiar faces, embarrassing friendswho knew better but made more of a habit of forgetting thanremembering she wanted nothingto do with Him, but here He was as her auntpassed the stuffing at Thanksgiving, each family holidayreminding her He was the firstborn, her family’s favorite, JesusHe was the older sibling who would never let herforget Him, forget them:her childhood crushher high-school teacherher church’s priest who believed herto be a phase, not a name, more choice than factjury be damned, the court ordaineda legal change but they could not makeHim be her, for she was still Heperpetually for her enemiesprovisionally at the DMVparenthetically for the politicians who apologeticallypleaded to the undecided voters in our divided countywho believed in Him, could agree on Him, couldmore easily conceive of He and Him and HisFather, Son, and Holy Spirit, my God Hewas a given, was given, was God’s-givenhow could He be given so much and want to becomeher, a demand, an ask, an explanationan aberration, a lesson for her mother, a challenge for her father, a pardon? for her employer, an oh! for her grandmotherand for her grandfather, right next to her?he wanted her gonewanted to slash the s right out of shegrab her, shake her until she forgot her endingcoughed up the middle, the aunt’s stuffingdropped the r and left He, Him who was there at the beginning