An Almost Ode to a Paper Clip

Simple, they call you, not

quite in derision,

nor in jealousy –

perhaps in awe that you

were created with so little

and you do so much.

My papered life

is held together

by you,

you connect so many

pieces of my existence.

Double bent with your edges

tucked into parallel lines

you remain hunched,

even in your youth, until

we straighten you out long

and thin into greater

simplicity – a metallic line

that digs and penetrates

into the unreachable

or bends into hooks

or other shapes.

Ah, paper clip, if only

you could hold the pieces

of me together

and keep me from

falling apart.