Bones

Cook with the meat on the bone
I rip through myself looking for bones
Authenticity, I only seek things I don’t believe in, God
Here are the maps my uncles prepared
The scrolls soak in tea until the borders disappear into milk
I tell other people who they are not so that I can name myself
It’s what I’ve always wanted — a new name
Same skin, new bones, white milk, home
My uncle asks if I pray for here or home
I stay silent, suspended in disbelief