Reading a Book of Armenian Baby Names the Night Before My Water Breaks

To fully experience this visual poem in its original form, enlarge the image below the text.

Text:

Girl names soften the tongue,
             a delicate unfolding, 
             Ghalam, painted with a pen,
             Lucine, moon.
The boy names, Kevork, Sevag,
             fire from throat,
             guttural consonants.
On the first page, my grandfather’s
             name, Arakel, to send forth.
At seven, he hunger-marched the
             bowels of Turkey.
His grandmother collapsed,
             his mother swept him
             onto a mule-drawn carriage
             of orphans headed to
             Malatya.
There, he hoped to be reunited
             with his father, hoped for
             shelter.
Neither happened.
But his mother sent him forth,
              he persisted on luck,
              a name.

Read more from Issue 22.2.