Wisdom becomes you 
the paper crane says, 
flaps its origami wings.

You have just finished folding it, 
hands poised in midair 
when again the words come out, 
rustle the tiny beak like a leaf on water.

You clutch the neck and feet, 
think: oh delicate 
this bird could break so easy. 
The creases prick your palms 
as you smooth the paper.

Watch the baited hook 
it speaks again 
and you look around 
like a folded puppet, 
as if you were a fish 
caught in water at Hiroshima.
But even a thousand cranes 
cannot change history 
so you squeeze the paper, 
check for blood.

Carefully the wings fold down, 
the legs retract. 
The beak closes, holds its breath 
until you look again: 
an eye tiny as a speck 
peers up.

This is no dancing crane 
you muse quietly to yourself.  
The crane speaks no more 
after you tuck it onto the windowsill.

You leave it there for many years, 
afraid it might speak again, 
afraid it might not.

~ Christine Klocek-Lim 
16 march 2004

Inside Out: A Gathering of Poets 
September 2004 
print anthology

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