COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: The border is a line that birds cannot see.
COUNSELOR: You mean like a window?
CALLER: The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half.
COUNSELOR: Oh—so these birds you mentioned—are they origami cranes?
CALLER: The border is where flint first met steel,
COUNSELOR: Oh no. How far along are you on the paper cranes? Were you going for the traditional thousand?
CALLER: starting a century of fires.
Read the rest of “The Border” by Alberto Rios here.