My fight with my autonym follows my days.
Dad had two in mind.
Mum thought Miranda would do.
As Mum lay in hospital and I in my incubator
Dad snuck off to inform authority of my birth.
Dad favours it from across the pond.
From Sharon and Tracy, Tracy was his pick.
It is said that Dad did not say what his pick was
until half a month ran by.
But Miranda I was not.
And so it starts.
At school, it was always wrong, and I put right.
If a form is compulsory, again, I must right it.
If I look at a list, and I am wrongly on it,
I do not distinguish its ubiquity.
This is just the start of my complaint.
In my junior school class,
a trio of us fought
for an instructing adult
to distinguish us.
My adjunct was ‘without an e’
So it stays until today.
I am Tracy W-B
but still without an e.