Folded - 23 march 2020

I’ve been                                            folding                        my home  

the shape of it appeared suspended

then squares                                     birds                                      airplanes

sheets drenched in sweat folded like a lush flower

petals                                                             only

without leaves, forgotten in permanent winter

folded                                     ham

small and thin hidden in whole grain loaves of bread screaming in mustard

folded books                         bursting                                  with creased corners

notes to myself, thoughts of homes released through others

folded in time                        in stories                    in hunger

I’ve felt haunted by a story of stolen time, flooding me with dry sandwiches

I’ve found myself both small and wide and have sought new shapes

turning corners into cores                                       cramming thoughts in squares                                                                  in birds

The Brunswick Centre, London. March 2020. Source: Olimpia Mosteanu