My name fits around an obese waist
Or could measure the height of my frame
It is as long as the thread
That holds a kite in the sky

And my name is seemingly obsolete
Yet far from extinct – too redundant
To be forgotten from newspaper
Or news channel, and my name will spark
Uncomfortable pauses and spells of dyslexia
Seemingly phonetics is reinvented
At each stray-worthy mouth

And my name will adorn
Certificates as claustrophobic letters
Stacked inside the smallest of spaces
Where John Smiths are habitually found
And that name will always be
Blush-maker, tongue-twister and lip-roller
The longest name overseas
And one of the shortest here in Sri Lanka

And my protracted name
Is not meant to be articulated by feeble lips
Only carefully tossed from the tongue
As near as possible, as quiet as possible.


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