There was this desk on the wall
in my room as a kid
that sat beneath a small, little window.
And when I sat there at night
doing homework, sometimes I would get up
and stand on its surface
scraping my fingers at the edge
of the porthole, just to see
if I could pull myself up.
It was weird. I never made it,
but one day I came in and there
was this big, open birdcage on the edge
of that desk with nothing inside,
but origami swans, folded
out of the newspaper that was strewn
along the bottom.