Origami girl

A poem

And I fold into myself,

An origami girl,

But the thing with paper folding

is that you

Can turn into whatever

You want to be.

I choose an

Aeroplane,

thin as a lie,

Cutting through clouds

with silver bones,

Riding the breath of the wind

As though I belong to the sky.

I leave a trail of paper cuts

In the biting cold air,

Sharp-edged and ghostly,

Darting past gravity,

Beyond the earth’s pull—

Oh,

I am weightless,

Lost,

Free.

But we know,

That paper thins,

It softens,

frays,

Unfolds itself

in the silence of a fall,

And soon I am plummeting,

Unfolding,

Into a girl who can only float

Until her edges give way.

---