My friend Alfonso asked the lamps*
For Alfonso Keyes Gonzalez Orbegoso, 1973-2020
what form was never meant for them, what form
they wanted to take if they could be anything at all.
The lamps–those formerly electric entities–
seemed to follow him home from the Needham dump, from Thrifty Threads
in Brookline. My friend probably rode the bus with a beleaguered lamp under each arm,
reminded his puzzled fellow humans that they (the lamps?) couldn’t cease
existing, these shiny stumps with innards not unlike mine, his.
Water, metals, and humans (containing water and metals): these have permission to conduct
the power throwing light–continuously! patiently!– at tables, floors, trusty
home furnishings. But because these prefabricated pedestals, primed to power
blooms of lightbulb, didn’t have the privilege of decomposing, becoming something new, Alfonso
realized their loneliness, agreed to tinker and repurpose them.
The ornate, fussy ones were especially lonely–
the ones with flowery cups to cradle the light.
Alfonso understood what it was
to have a fussy body cradling light.
*This poem was inspired by Alfonso’s environmentalism and his artwork: he upcycled old lamps into candelabras and other unique sculptures. This can be seen at his facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/alfonso.orbegoso.3/.
Collecting Samples of Future Reflected Light in Boston, Massachusetts
For Alfonso
I’m going to look for the skyscraper–
the one with windows.
I didn’t come this far to say hi to a skyscraper
refusing to reflect light back at the sidewalk.
Skies have gaps or they can’t be windows.
I’m going to look for the sky with the windows.
I’m going to use a friendly greeting.
I will follow the window all the way back
to its source in the sky.
I will trail the light for years until it divides the cement
into tidily bright squares.
I intend to hopscotch my way through them
when I get to the city you died in.
It will be my turn, and then it will be yours.
