Origami

Folded into an origami crane
my heart perched
on your ribs.

I should have made
a wild dash for the moon,
doomed flight,
burnt,scattering into blue.

Instead, I contort:
today a bird
tomorrow a beetle
in the valley
of your knuckles.

I fold, I fit
line and razor edge
I warn you:
I cut-
striations in your skin
a hiss when a tear
falls into your collarbone
salt-sting-love
sliding into all the spaces
in between.