Paper Cranes | Cait McReavy Once crumpled paper cranes do not fly. A seam too far to the right, or a crease across the underbelly, and the parchment bird, so carefully crafted, takes a nose dive into the carpet. Left uncrumpled, paper balls do not fly. A straight edge here, or crevice that is marked too lightly, and the ink-armored hero, so carefully crafted, stumbles past the garbage can and crinkles in defeat. Then what of the paper cranes that I folded for you? Lined up so carefully in a color coded row then sealed with tender fingers? The ones that sat on your windowsill until you no longer loved me; then flew through the floorboards at the dying of our sun
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