I am from peppermint sticks, 

from Heavenly Scents and bubblemint.   

I am from the treehouse in the sky.

(Large and winding,

Smelling of soy)

I am from the bald cypress 

and the white clover that was perpetually crowding my feet

I was always running,

 crushing them and whatever else was beneath me.

I’m from frostees and back braces,

From Cedrics and Ritas and Wynnes.

I am from the high-and-mighty

The Lemony Snickets and lickety-splits, 

I’m from the ‘believe in angels and water the roots’

From paintings of saviors 

And all-encompassing Catholic guilt.

I am from the unlucky son and the chosen one,

LeeRoy’s boys and never-ending fun.

From garlic dips and homemade chips.

From the thin scar on my grandmother’s wrist,

I gave it to her when I was young,

Broke the skin with my lips.

Inside that locked door in my uncle’s house,

Lies half-baked memories and unknown pasts.

I see faces that don’t look my own,

A lineage of women who I’m not sure has a home.

Still, I am from these hidden secrets which I know 

nothing about

A family tree in which I am neither here nor there

A history that could disappear into the air.