you looked at every little paper square
with the eyes of an imagining child.
images ravaged inside your head,
your hands fidgeted with excitement
to transform those four perfect corners
into a geometric animal I can’t comprehend.
you reached for them without hesitation
and you created a crane, a hummingbird,
a dragon. with most heedful hands,
you gave them wings. you took
those already admirable kamis
and managed to make them
the prettiest playthings.
I looked at every little paper square
with the eyes of a horrified girl.
I turned away from the opportunity
to taint such a clean slate,
I thought of how much I didn’t deserve
to hold one perfectly cut item.
you wanted me to take their corners
and fold them into toys; give them
as many wings as you did.
hold them inside the rough lines
of my fingers, let them rest in my palms
and channel the patience I don’t have.
but I couldn’t make a crane,
a hummingbird, a damn dragon.
the creases I made
created the kind of playthings
that exist only inside a drawer
as soon as kids receive them.
kamis that are made ugly.
dragons without spark.
hummingbirds without sound.
cranes without wings.
maybe it was just
the difference in attitude. F – day-z
