I’m exactly the person that I thought I’d be.
—Amanda Palmer, “In My Mind”
And there she was in Wikipedia, the woman
with my name who went to my college and
attended my grad school and graduated the same
years as I did. She wrote books that I wrote
and lives in the same state I do.
There was no picture of her, but I think
I might recognize her if I see her. Though in reality,
I recognize her less and less. I remember
how much she wanted to be in Wikipedia.
How the bio she wished for included honors
way beyond the honors they list. I know
how she still struggles with what she thinks she wants
and who she actually is. Of course, I love
that they spelled her name right. That they
neglected to mention the awards she didn’t get
last week. How they left out the part
where she didn’t want to get out of bed
in the morning for months. But dang.
Wikipedia. I mean, how could that not
make her feel as if she’s somehow arrived—
categorized as “American Woman Poet,”
which, they don’t mention, has been
her dream since fifth grade. If they knew,
they might expand her bio to mention the winter day
back in 1979 when she sat in a beanbag
on Mrs. Zabrowski’s fifth grade floor
and stared out the window
at the furious Wisconsin winter storm
and read “The Snowflake” by Walter de la Mare,
falling in love with what poems can do.
That was the day she felt the wild tremor
of words and thought, Maybe I could do it, too.
And maybe tonight, looking in the mirror,
she will see that no matter the honors
she never received, she did follow
the wild tremor of words to become
the woman she dreamed she could be.
And though Wikipedia won’t tell you why,
she’s starting to believe she’s exactly
the woman she dreamed she could be.
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