Ayrton Lopez
BONE ORCHARD
I.
Everything goes into my wheelbarrow
at the bone orchard
Some are duplicates and others I have no use for
yet I tower them high
I am here to trade my baby teeth
for renewed Vitruvian marrow
Rebuilding a body and seeking anything
that will grow as I do
Bones knock together like windchimes
until they are slathered smooth
A ripeness I never knew
My greed pirouettes into tightly nested circles
II.
Only monochromatic shades play at maximum volume here
Other colors are but husks
Muted and derivative in an alphabet of vinegary glyphs
Astral flecks of misconducted alchemy
Shadow and any sense of depth
scattered into hollowed heaviness
III.
Row after row of magnificent growth
planted so straight I wonder if this horizon even curves
or if it simply ends between calcified parapets
A framed cut-out of hardened sunlight between branches
With each step I discover a new sensitivity
Soil underfoot pills like a blanket
Seeds gleaming as they burrow into themselves
Cracked open only to return twice as strong
Admittedly not everything I gather will agree
with my underdeveloped sockets and damaged ratios
But I am unwilling to accept
imperfection this time around
And would rather spend an eternity
among the pieces that make a whole