Suppose, just suppose I place
colored paper boats in a small stream
and they are pink, bright pink
blue or daffodil yellow, folded
origami fashion but sturdy enough
to take to the water and float
a little while past me, until
random drops land
in the fragile hulls. And so burdened
with water inside as well as out
they begin to soften, lose shape
and at some point beyond me
I suppose, disintegrate.
This doesn't trouble me,
my job is launching paper boats
and I must leave to the stream the task
of reducing everything to clarity.
— Karen Ande
