fire origami

the fire is warm on my face
the house is silent

she steps through a crack between the worlds

in her hands an origami. . .
flower?
dragon?
a twisted paper thing

without speaking she casts it onto the coals
it hisses and writhes
but strangely it is a moving sculpture
convolving first into a flaming head of a stallion
and angel’s wing
a river of fire

i turn
and she is gone

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

4 thoughts on “fire origami”

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