Taiga

Lumbering hungrily around the edges

of the campsite, an origami orangutan scritch-scratches

at the curly shards of communication

that feed the flames

that warm the night

that harbors the lies

that feed the fiend

that emerged from the cuts

in the poison pulp that we milled.

Paper tigers are harmless:

• PAY-puhr   TIY-guhr •

a person or thing

that appears threatening, but is ineffectual

&

Origami orangutans are

easy to construct!

Fascinating to behold!

Difficult to dismiss.

There’s a reason, I think, why

we can’t shove it into the flames.

Something about burnt flesh

and toxic fumes

and overfed fires run out of control

in a dried-up forest

almost as hungry as the beast.

There’s a reason why we can’t

drown it in the rising waves

at the water’s edge.

Something to do with power.

Something to do with sunburn.

Something to do with the float

that lets us pretend

our bills are paid

before the check is in the mail.

There’s a reason why we can’t smash it

under the feet of a million marchers.

Something to do with jackboots.

Something to do with furies.

Something to do with the way the wind blows us

back and then forth again, worrying the air.

—Sheri Reda