this little origami life
lies on the floor with torn wings
what happened to days meant only
for kissing daisies while standing on pointed toes
was it in my absorption in the bright colors
that time seemed to have stopped and jumped simultaneously?
perhaps i should start counting and recounting petals
the way others do with sheep to dream
isn’t it what you wanted anyway
a math i can never understand
where you and i amount to a ripening womb
whose fruit is neither yours nor mine
sweet nectar ignorant of parched throats of those
whose heads are hanging and have browned–
from thirst of love and truth and life;
innocent and uncorrupted by all that we are