Origami Attack

 You trimmed your shop window

with a thousand origami cranes

folded in blue, red, and yellow.

You expect this flock to suggest

that peace might break out sooner

than later, the flickering wars

on three continents snuffing

and their ashes blowing away.

 

I try a photo but reflections

of the bank across the street

and passing cars and pickups

muddle the crisp flight of birds.

The bank looks officious today,

responding to your frankly

socialist vision with a sneer

of brick and peeling wood trim.

 

The bustling vehicles ignore

your display because running

the stop sign requires focus.

Once I counted for a few minutes

the drivers who stopped and those

who blasted right through without

owning the right of way: five

scofflaws for each one that stopped.

 

You think your floodlit aviary

can discipline the human race?

The cranes beat against the tide

of indifference, their colors blazing,

but their living figures droop

with a thousand years of exhaustion

imported from Japan before

atomic warfare began.