please, I mutter back, 

I am not in the business of building ghosts, 

and I think myself very little but 

a woman blurred by the shadows who care for me: 

first there is Adina, 

she holds my teenagehood in her palm, 

blows at it with warmth; 

in the early years, her breath took my mind by storm 

and I forgot the wounds she stood for, 

but slowly she cast heat over winds– 

a new presence emerged as my memories returned, 

Artemis is her name.

she is the dirty river that holds my tears.

I come to her for catharsis and rage. 

she chopped my hair above my shoulders as I sharpened 

and came 

crawling

from the shell 

Adina cradled with her fist. 

then there is Ariel,

she is not a woman but a beast.

she wails at me with lips 

smacking as a smile,

on fire, 

make love with the crown of your head, girl

–you should know yourself there, 

That is when I laugh, and there is no ghost in my huff; 

only bits of spit

wet 

with joy-particles, 

that is to say, 

I am born again 

with a warmth in my throat 

raging through like a sunset, 

a ghost-limbed body

burning black.

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