by Jessica Tremblay
Unable to figure out the last step of an origami,
I sit there, frustrated.
I unfold the paper and start over.
Soon, I’m blocked again.
I flatten the paper on the table.
The creases mark the battle. I sit still,
imagining the finished origami—a tato box.
So close, and yet unable to finish.
Yes, it’s frustrating, just like an unfinished haiku.
Every once in a while you get a flash of genius,
a haiku that simply comes to you,
but by the time you write it down, you forget
the last line or a word.
And the haiku is unfinished, imperfect.
You know the answer—it was given to you a moment ago.
Now, the missing word is this big gap
in the middle of the poem,
staring you in the face.
And, just like a used origami paper,
the haiku cannot be reused or repaired.
It can only be trashed or recycled.
to Jessica Tremblay’s Old Pond Comics blog on 21