fold, tear, stick staple: a zine meditation

i

fold
this is an experiment in getting smaller
compact needs
that don't fit
somewhere there are secret wings
a butterfly position
where my heart beats out my thighs

which part of this body opens
where are the lines of this
papercut chrysalis
crush on
symmetry

half
no
twice
the girl i need
to be

ii

tear
seams are not safe
you can put the scissors down
fold 'til paper comes
apart
tear
the heart out of waiting
magazine pages
creased between your teeth

remember

manmade corners hurt
machinery sliced straight

but these edges
still warm from your tongue

these torn edges
made from necessity
reborn in my mouth
these torn edges
are soft
like (almost) home

iii

stick
glue on wrists
fingers stuck together
is not the same thing
as commitment

this is the place
slow
come together dangerous
wet weight of loving
threatens the page with strength
thick layers
of fortified never

enough

you can't see my favorite parts
because i glued them down first

iv

staple
what makes this
part of that
invented backbone

what makes me think
you will stay?

something restrains
something holds
this hardest part to get to
and around it
wings flutter
to hope