Oct 25, 2009 22:51
Crinkles
In rib-shaped iron, pink foil wrappers
pinched, into spoons and little chairs:
this is how we make origami in Orizaba.
The residue of dark chocolate is left on my fingertips,
tell-tale signs on toy sized tea sets, we pretend to sip
two parts dirt, one part water
with spoons.
Tin foil hands: our fingers touched,
rounded thumbs.
poem