The first fold
The first fold is critical; it instructs all that follow.
It teaches the paper where to crease, skin where to wrinkle.
Bending leaf around stem, lava on lava, sleeve to chest,
it is the map within the map, the wing that sails the plane.
The first fold contains promise: warm dough pressed back on itself,
crimped note passed hand to hand, cool air embracing bladed fan,
petal arranging the seduction of the hummingbird.
Life line on the palm’s flesh an indelible inscription,
for the flag it is a lesson in the language of death.
The first fold is memory recalling how to unfurl.
Artist, poet, and freelance writer, J.I. Kleinberg is a Best of the Net and Pushcart nominee. Her poetry has appeared in One,Diagram, Otoliths, Raven Chronicles, Psaltery & Lyre, and elsewhere. She lives in Bellingham, Washington, and blogs most days at chocolateisaverb.wordpress.com and thepoetrydepartment.wordpress.com.