Friday’s Poem on Friday

atrial origami


you sit in the dark

curling up

with the imagination of a lover

soundtracked with slow



staring, in a trance

as fractals resonate

off every heartbeat

a beacon in the middle of the stars

Voyager at a standstill:

maybe if I stop moving

they’ll find me

and the firstborn moments

of sentience and passion

fold the continuum

around themselves

as a blanket, or

the never-before-discovered

origami animals of the heart

when bereft of lovers and friends

you fashion them

out of the dark corners of rooms

that you have for too long

forgotten to inhabit

utilizing the order of chaos theory

to ossify hope into bones

striate intention into muscle and

layer sensuality in an epidermis

touching you in return.

making the god forget its millennia

of abject loneliness


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