Is it possible

 that this short,

truncated coil of silver wire,

bent back upon itself,



three times, was once

an endless extrusion and now

clasps meaning in a tidy pile?

Now, it holds together love-letters,

collected passionate exchanges,

recipes for soup clipped from the papers

and reminders of payments past due.

What workman, minding his machine,

stood by


for this endless metal hair

to cool,

to apportion it given lengths,

idling his thoughts

of papers to be compiled, at home,

into discrete piles of similar information?

One never has to buy this elegant inch

of triple-looped pinch.

It arrives daily in the mail

from the offices of bureaucrats.

It outlives ephemeral pages of importance

when carelessly


into a stoneware bowl.

GM, November 7, 2004

This is in response to a writing workshop prompt to write a poem about an object.  I like paper clips!

2 Responses to “PAPER CLIP”

  1. citrus Says:

    Very good. I like it!\

  2. mariacristina Says:

    I like the image of the paperclip outliving the pages. A nice poem linking a mundane object to our fleeting thoughts and words.

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