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She folded a girl
out of paper, a soft
seashell pink, and put
it on my pillow like
a chocolate at some fancy hotel.
I woke up to corners
and edges and a
memory of a dream where
I was halfway buried
in apple peels.
The paper felt too delicate
in my hands like a letter
read too many times
and I held up the figure
like I could divine some
message but it was
just pink, just creased,
just wanting and
waiting to be unfolded
into nothingness.


Chloe N. Clark is a writer of fiction and poetry. She has had poems previously featured in Halfway Down the Stairs, Interrobang!?, Shaking Like a Mountain, Sliver of Stone, and Verse Wisconsin among other places. In her free time she writes ghost stories, bakes cupcakes,and makes a general nuisance of herself.

© 2010, Chloe N. Clark

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