i was born     at the rupture the root where     i split from my parallel self  i split from     the girl i also could have been     & her name / easy / i know the story     all her life / my mother wanted     a girl named for a flower     whose oil scents all     our mothers /     petals wrung     for their perfume

i was planted     land became ocean became land anew     its shape refusing root in my fallow mouth     cleaving my life neatly     & my name / taken from a dead woman     to remember / to fill an aperture with     cut jasmine in a bowl     our longing     our mothers’     wilting     garlands hanging from our necks

The formatting is far from perfect (it shouldn't really be in a table...) but this is the best I could do on DW.  Here is the poet performing the piece.