the origami of the universe
corners me like a thin wedge of star pie—
but I feel its edges folding me in tight, tighter
with every crease—

it bends and twists my body
into strange positions to take its own shape which is when
I wonder if ink is more beautiful than plain bond—
a sort of tattooed silence instead of pure white absence and wonder
if the space between words will expand as my words swell to fill the
speechless cavity of my mouth—

but I’m shrinking away from these words
as you get tall—
so high you are, above the treetops
so high that your head is the height where cranes fly and
you can see them all
eye to eye

you’re so tall you can’t see me down here anymore
and I crane my neck to see you—

you’re so tall you’re about to step on this fractal of me
but I quickly jump aside and crawl up the wall
to look straight into your eye—

I fall into its constricting blackhole where color
spirals shut behind me and now I see the whole world
through your pinpoint miotic aperture—
a world shrinking and pulling back from its own skin at the same time it’s stretching
into infinite space
with me seated behind a thick lens
tucked in the gelatin of your roving globe I see all the tiny little things
and make them even tinier—
micro, nano, pico, femto
and you see all the big things and make them even bigger—
macro, meso, mega

and together we walk forward into
the dilating reducing world—

while origami cranes unfold their wings and soar
in front of our searching gaze—

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