wait

wait
there's no more, just
wait
let it sink in

let the revelation
keep unfolding its skin
as it sits
in its bin, as it crinkles
out of crumpled up
the ball that you formed
2 for the win

a post-free-form origami
from your hands, still warm
how hard you squeezed it
wanting to compress it into
not diamonds - charcoal

to push in
on it, to fix it
in place, force out the air
but the shape won't stick
as a sphere, it pops and crackles
dry slithering hiss of a paper exhale
spreading back out again
- you can see some of
the words, now

again. But a crease of its deformed
form forms a perfect pocket for
a lit match. And it goes up in colors
- this goddamned artsy notepaper -
the design makes flames
yellow, red, violet, over
in less than a minute

and a smoked haze
of burnt green plastic