The Fold of Origami

Inspired by my poem: "a dobra do origami", read this and other poems at olhoabsurdo.blogspot.com I saw her wings born above her arms, taking her hands, while other creatures of paper flew. These winged beings gathered upon her buttocks, upon her vulva, rising in folds. Finally, they were skirts that concealed a scarred body, a broken heart, two lacerated feet. [chorus] The fold of origami, the crimson muse rests upon the same eyes that passively wound and blind. She doesn't understand the evils that proliferate and hover, almost gentle and alone, over the devastated earth. [chorus] The fold of origami, the crimson muse rests upon the same eyes that passively wound and blind.