I have crispy bacon, french toast, coffee with cream running cold.
I want you to understand my origami
words, made from crinkled paper squares.
gently rustling I fold unfold refold
to try to re-explain my
self, reassuring your pale pale fingers
that are folding unfolding refolding
the cheap paper napkins: victims of a morning dream.
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1 comment:
And why don't you write? Write! Writing is for you, you are for you; your body is yours, take it.
Helene Cixous
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