origami
made out of Tengucho paper
with a hollow center.
Two cutout people
as delicate as the origami walls
soluble under drizzles
flammable by hot wax.
Origami home.
Even with windows it’s suffocating
even with blinds it’s see-through
even with space it’s compact
even with lightness it’s a burden.
Two paper people
that came from one folded cut.
Frail and clueless like a newborn
yet strong enough to bruise all the bricks
mindless enough to dance around a flame.
Origami home.
Shattered to dust.
Burnt to a cinder.
