Lightbulbs

One day, out of the blue, a man told my father that “lightbulbs” aren’t lightbulbs

They’re lightlamps, he said

The man told my father to trust him, told him that he was an electrician

They’re lightlamps, he said

Ever since that day, my father refuses to call those bulb-shaped things “lightbulbs”

They’re lightlamps, he says

In hardware stores he argues with the helpful employees

They’re lightlamps, he says

He ignores the labels, he ignores the boxes, he ignores what people tell him

They’re lightlamps, he says

A man had told him once, a man he had decided to trust and respect

They’re lightlamps, he’d said

And so my father has obeyed the words of this one man

They’re lightlamps, he says

When I ask my father to call me by the name I have chosen for myself,

The name I pulled out of hot fire and hammered into feminine shape,

He says, No

That’s not your name, he says