And then I wrote this one about my grandmothers and not knowing one of them-

Born a ghost
Born of ghost
Born to know
The inheritance
Of holes
In borne shone there
Where the emptiness
Grows

You made me,
Borne in wanting
Waiting
For magic
So Ill defined it can’t be known
Magic
Made
In river dirt and rocks and
Loneliness
Me
Child of the void
In you

In
   finite
Trapped
               But ever expanding celestial
To what I can never know,
Never understand
But know
                  That I am missing

Lesser
Wanting
Unbroken but not whole just—
                                                     holey.

Here, I cling
To rafts made
Lashed together of rituals fragmented by time
And space
And here on the ocean,
Stormy seas
I’ll wash swept
Slung to symbolism crashing on the rocks,
Weathered

And is it my solid bits, buoyant with *******
That keeps me afloat
Or the hole
That is home in me.

But then again—ghosts don’t drown
I was born dead at sea.