In the native lands
of the ghosts / who formed me / beyond the building
and unbuilding / of bone borders, bloodying / rivers of language / and names
eroding mountains / of faces and dirt, dispersing / across time and space / splintering / a body
region / into dozens of / organs, appendages, nations / for all my ancestors lacked / their dirt
homed / more ocean-hills of plums / than they could eat / so they drank them / across distinct
lands and dialects / they harvested, summer through fall / fermented, through winter / palmed
orbs of sunset / mauve-purple, crimson-gold / pulpy flesh falling in plumps / from the knuckle
bones and nail-beds / of my ghost’s hands / dripping in red, sour-bitter juice / fingers working
small globes / to their stone-cores / each of their parts / a territory divided / made useful
to the whole / seed, skin, and sweet blood / no additive needed / but time
their sacrificial bodies / sufficient / in yeast and sugar / for the wild
of their own / nature