Silent Orchard

I plant a silent orchard for myself

in remembrance of my first taste of winter

There is enough love and fruit for each

fragment of myself that fractured that night

Enough for

every cell that screeched in agony underneath

the weight

Enough for

every drop of blood that boiled in rejection of

him

I sing to every seed before it grows,

so in a year,

once the orchard is ready,

each leaf swells into a harmony bug

that swarms with lovely

sounds, clicks, and hymns

I usher the noise into the open wound

on my chest,

and the bushels of light fill me until

the lake water tumbles out of my mouth

and my flesh is no longer inflamed

The music from the beetles and the leaves

kiss every inch of me

until there is nothing but the one version of myself

I fear the most

She is the only one who feels pain

and I am grateful I chose her