Artifact
Clothespin, I hold
you in my hand,
toggling you open
and closed, testing
your hidden spring,
clipping you briefly
to one thing
or another: hem
of my sweater,
rim of a cup.
Even though backyards
are no longer garlanded
with clothing,
the image hangs on:
beautiful to see
ourselves outside
our bodies, our beds
unmade by the wind.
Clothespin, I need you
still: help me
fasten something
to a line and let it
wave a little in the sun.
you in my hand,
toggling you open
and closed, testing
your hidden spring,
clipping you briefly
to one thing
or another: hem
of my sweater,
rim of a cup.
Even though backyards
are no longer garlanded
with clothing,
the image hangs on:
beautiful to see
ourselves outside
our bodies, our beds
unmade by the wind.
Clothespin, I need you
still: help me
fasten something
to a line and let it
wave a little in the sun.
Theresa Pappas is the author of two collections of poetry: The Desert Art (WordTech) and Flash Paper (New Rivers). Her work has appeared in The Louisville Review, Black Warrior Review, Poetry East, Gargoyle, and other journals. She lives in Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Art: New Beginning #132, Encaustic on Wood Panel, 2021 by Chizu Omori.