little pop-up container

little pop-up container

mind’s closed fist
opens slowly

origami bends sharp
at odd angles

not the swan
i wanted

fine china bowl smoothed
by a thousand thousand strokes

patient palms now cracked
and leaking sky

run all over this dirt
floor lick my toes blue

wait hovering eyes
over the emptiness of waves

find the faint line
of cranes

lips lift away
in surprise

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