Rina Oh
Jan 18, 2026
Poem: What's Her Name?
Silkworm Paper
He’s drawing curvy dots with his grey feathered pen with imported Italian ink. Only using the finest handmade paper from the Amalfi Coast of Italy. That was Caesar’s favorite cliff. He once called it the most beautiful place on Earth.
He curiously sips his Earl Grey tea, without cream, without sugar. The loose tea leaves slowly seeping flavor into his grandmother’s Limoges porcelain tea pot. With a gentleman’s hand, he pours liquid through the sieve, onto a hand painted delicate cup and saucer.
English roses and gold rims, he sips his Earl Grey tea.
Rose was her name, and she was made to become a Queen.
It is said a rose is still a rose, even if you call her a different name.
“So what’s her real name then?” I asked the writer.
“I cannot name any names. That is just forbidden”.
“Fine, I said. I’ll just figure it out”.
“She’s not the Mona Lisa!”
“And her name was never Mary!”