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Channel: Poetry – Straylight Literary Magazine
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Origami

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This is the part 
     where everything 
                        changes.
This is the part
         like an orchid 
                requires patience.
This is the part
      where the universe 
                                    bends
                                              and you fold 
                                                               the paper 
                                                        into 
                                           flowers.
Cover me in chrysanthemums.
This is the part
        where our knees become inch worms
     under the table.
Cover me in dirt.
This is the part
      that   comes   on   slow   at   first
      then 
      heavy 
      urgent 
      pulses
      rush 
      through 
      us
      adding 
      impulse 
      to 
      injury
            manipulating 
    our insides
              twisting
       folding
            contorting 
  every nerve
            until they


RIP.


But the pieces don’t rest.


This is the part
    where the lions roar
    like violets showing their teeth
    at the sun.
    They nibble the flesh
    without breaking
    the skin.
    It’s paper thin.

This is the part
    where I ball up my paper fists
    and wrestle with the tiger lilies
    while you remain at war with my tulips.
This is the part
    where we dig up the dirt
    and we ruin us. 
This is when

   the dandelions B U R S T
    like supernovas
    and suddenly
ev-er-y
    syll-a-ble
           counts.

This is where
     I see your dark side
     and learn the true meaning
     of the depths in your eyes.
This is the part
     where you flip me over
and tell me
“Don’t stop.”
I don’t stop.
Why would I stop?
I can’t 
stop.

And 
    this 
         is 
          the
             part
                 where
                        we 
                            fall
  

A

 


       p
          a
        r 
           t. 

Tell me you don’t want this.

Tell me you don’t want this
   and I’ll leave this bed of marigold
and
    change
  my 
      form.
Tell me you don’t want this
   and I’ll never hold your gaze
                                                          too                     l   o    n      g 
                                       again.
Tell me you don’t want this
     and I’ll unfold myself from your side
     along with the paper flowers.
     You can take back the roses
     fuck the daises
     but leave me the daffodils.
Tell me you don’t want this
     and our forget-me-nots 
     will forget us
     and our bleeding hearts 
     will bleed us dry.
Tell me you don’t want this
                                  and I’ll rewind the movie
                           play it BACK

                from the beginning
         only this time
     we’ll pay 
attention. 
     I’ll silence the lions 
     and put them BACK in their cages.
                                        I’ll bend 
                      the universe 
         BACK into
shape.
But tell me you want this
and this will be the part
where we pick the paper petals 
                                                  off  the 
                                                           stem and
                                                                      watch them
                                                                                       fall like
                                                                                                cherry blossoms.
                                                                 He loves me.
                                                                                He loves me not.
                                                                     Forget me.
                                                                                    Forget me not.

 


Garreau

Ashley Garreau is an English Major with an Art minor, currently taking classes at the University of Wisconsin Parkside. Poetry has always been a passion of hers with photography and painting at a close second.


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