Fortune teller

Fortune teller

fortuneteller (2)

An old paper trick. My daughter’s voice counting
as her thumbs and forefingers shift the shape

to reveal triangles within triangles, like the smallest
possible stable shape of a thought, a fate. Choosing from the images

or words drawn on each one, I go with “Gold.” Shuffle. “Pine tree.”
Shuffle. “Two inseparable dots.” At each choice the landscape

changes again beyond choice. Under the last shape
is the final stable thing, the fortune: An old dream

will come back to you. Almost invisible, that dream
beneath colors and trees, underpinning everything.

6 thoughts on “Fortune teller

  1. Ron

    Remarkable in the extreme, Sir Jeff! Sheer genius how the poem changes shape as the paper’s folds change the shape of the paper itself. Just utterly fantastic!


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