large enough, thin enough. I have always been so creased and compressed I’d explode inside
a compressor. Too heavy to lift and yes, some have tried or joked about it. The first seven turns are easy. Everyone has a set number of tools and limited
energy and then we’re done. We can’t take any more halving, we can’t keep coming back to the same place pressed together. We are all imperfect logic, math-matched, given the choice, the moon or that time I thought I would never be able
to fold again, I would take the distance I have and be grateful to stand under. Sistered to the sky. Darkness is always ready to do the final calculations, to keep close. If most answer forty-five I return at forty six, still counting. At forty seven, nobody asks any more where will we go from here?
Sarah Ann Winn’s first book, Alma Almanac, was selected by Elaine Equi as winner of the 2017 Barrow Street Book Prize. She’s the author of five chapbooks, the most recent of which, Ever After the End Matter, is forthcoming from Porkbelly Press in 2019. She teaches poetry workshops in Northern Virginia and the DC Metro area, and online at the Loft Literary Center. Visit her at http://bluebirdwords.com or follow her @blueaisling.