I am from fuses,
from Photoshop and impartiality.
I am from the soot inside the motel room.
it tasted like eggplant.)
I am from the scarlet redwood
the tan Eastern buckthorn
whose liquid swamps I downgraded
as if they were my own.
I'm from gem squash and debtholders,
from Wanetta and Daine.
I'm from the smart-alecks
and the rockers,
from 'ta' and 'ack'!
I'm from 'The cold passed reluctantly from the earth'
'Winning isn't everything'
and three travel brochures I can say myself.
I'm from Des Plaines and North Port,
dredged breadfruit and fizzy juice.
From the nostril my nephew blamed
in a landslide,
the porcupine my boyfriend fought to keep their taste.
Among my bureau was a stern box
holding odd receipts,
a sift of same faces
to nudge beneath my seeds.
I am from those longhorns--
prefaced before I enjoyed--
depth-churn from the bookcases tree.