Artifacts

I'm burying my head deep into a distant May a stretch from this late January where an unseasonable warmth has reawakened these lilacs beneath my skin (they sprawl varicose-like patterning purple clusters across the outsides of my forearms around the backs of my shoulders) Come close you'll smell it on my breath. The dark soil radiant but cool just three handfuls down: water from an early spring melt miles of prairie grass and mountain away filtering deep to the snaking roots The china-doll's broken foot spent shell casings and chimney stones marked by old fires have torn my nails lifting the protective layer to wedge the nutrients deep into my fingers where the growth begins