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Orphanage Orchard

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Berries, like a colony of pupils,
Grow black and full
From his ropes.

A brighter dystopia.
A kingless orphanage of vegetables.

This is where to lose the ghosts-
Your parent's photographs,
Wire hangers, mattresses.

This is where to find your own.

Orchard kisses the children's feet
With moist soil and summer puddles.

Vines strung themselves
Through the shadows and daylight.

Mint green mushroom bodies
Sprung up,
Taught a lesson in growth.

Willow trees unfurled knotted ropes,
To replace the clouds
That we lost in war.

And these sweet roots,
Earthy and complete,
Make a thicker roof
Than picket fences
Ever could.




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