God folds the world along pre-creased lines,
pressing one edge against another, before scoring.
Sometimes she folds one way, opens, then reverses.
That’s how we get extra dimensions.
That’s how we get different colors.
It’s not an exact science. Sometimes a fold is a bit off.
Sometimes her hand trembles.
Sometimes a hawk turns into a dove, or vice versa.
Some say that if she folds a thousand paper cranes
the world will be a lucky, joyful place.
Some say she’s down to her last few sheets.
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From the Poetry Editor: We are starting 2018 with a few news poems by Carbondale poet, José A. Alcantara. Enjoy this marvelous work!
