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