My Origami Kingdom

Like some reckless,

Hellbent angel,

I spent my gifts

on baubles best

left in crowns

made of wax and

tinfoil.

Shiny, origami-king

of conspiracy

and self-made

maladies. Rich,

though I be,

by such measures.

My own foil.

My kingdom

for a crown

made of gold and finery.

Rubies and emeralds

festoon my brow

in this one-man play

of hierarchy.

Call me back,

into Heaven,

where I tell my tale

to all who’ll listen.

Except to Peter,

that old scoundrel

who turned his back.

He tore his book,

folded me this crown,

and with a shove,

my kingdom,

bequeathed me.


© CGT, 2018.

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