In the Australian Outback, the feral camels ate thorns. They repopulated the blankness they were abandoned to, a place not their home. When they found a verdant spread, they devoured it. I know what it means to gorge before sudden bounty and to subsist on pain. I dream of the outback camel, generations deep in forgetting. He’s like a golden candy, hard and beautiful in the sun. His strange displacement suits him. My queer body is still seeking blankness, still fumbling in the sands that shift and alter. I slid my ghost into another’s and disappeared for years. She came back to me like a stranger and I fed her thorns. How else could she have known that I love her?