Contemporary Origami

My reach does not stop
at the wings of a crane.
It stretches out to a field

empty. Boy, listen
to me, I am above the soil
I am flying. Thrown.

There’s something lovely
about how things hide
away. A fold onto itself

and still it cannot portray
creases like knives, no
blood. Easy to trace.

Easy to have my hands
hold one thousand
cranes in the flesh.

Make them dance.
Feel the wrinkled feathers.
Hear the sound of bones

disguise into a cadenza.

By Adam Zhou

Biography:

Adam Zhou is a fifteen-year-old student at International School Manila and has been recognized for his poetry collection and personal essay in the national stage of the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. If he’s not writing in his room, you will find him in the bookstore or in a rehearsal studio, jazzing up a tune on his violin. His interests, especially revolving around identity and nature, has inspired him to write creatively about them.