Origami Transportation
How close am I to
Earth when
Help would push me
To the sky
And pain still wishes to
Pull me to the ground?
I guess I speak of
Medicine and illness
And the rips, the tears they make
Ideally with coordination
(patch over wound)
But with parts of the heart
Still pouring over into
Nets of capillaries
Wounded-open
What can artificiality construct
(what can making make)
To that will mend with
Flesh parts that have
Been hung for years
Red, brown, freckled, white
Flesh like bird-feathers, birds
Waiting on a branch to fly
Once the banding’s done?
Fly so well, then?
Metal and claw, we have to hope
Human mends
Steel and plastic
Cotton, nylon fiber
Chemicals repurposed from
Repose inside the Earth
Give it all a chance
The gently shackled bird
The patient with medicines
In binding
C L Couch
Photo by Nikoline Arns on Unsplash
Leave a Reply