Damned if I’ll be the woman who collects mass produced throw pillows counts her county’s condoms shoots chemicals to drench the porch hornet on the way to recycle the obits hums Somalian rap—young—five minutes till the end one spring considers the GPS tracking in relation to the real cost of cell surveillance buys a hand gun walks the dog dips Fritos in peanut butter Googles Selfie! sixteen ways from Sunday. There are two kinds of origami: The one kind is a dragon with 1000 scales cut so intricately wings flap unfolding—this takes hours of exact labor it takes a cliff’s cave of jewels, lace you’d commit hara- kiri for to see or touch again. The other kind’s a gentle bend in the plain paper tower’s middle makes me cry, I won’t be that woman either—sifting strangers’ receipts from the ashes of downed town silos to say whose fault is this move to the new age of Victorian? Whose fist clutches shifting sand? Nor plunder coins to match the old beloved’s eyes that wander fresh possibility—being no mechanical & flag wrapped patriot of one country, but swear allegiance to margin’s error, headline: Careful, Concrete Crushed by Falling Sheet Where the Greedy Surrender to New Foliage. Jane Springer (born Lawrenceburg, Tennessee) is an American poet. She won a 2010 Whiting Writers' Award. She graduated from Florida State University with a PhD in creative writing. She is Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Hamilton College. She was a National Endowment for the Arts Fellow. Dear Blackbird won the 2006 Agha Shahid Ali Prize.