A Thousand Paper Cranes
I wrote this poem for you.
Folded up the sentences, creased
Meanings as I was murmur
How much I missed my
Fingers entwined with some place
In your hand, or your hair, or the end
Of your shirt.
I am using this poem
To love you but I wish miserably
That you would use me instead
Of a delicate Chinese crane
Bent too much in the wings and a slender
White neck you kiss
Wishing your lips lay on my collarbone.