[Swingline Sister]

Of steel and coil
my [little alligator]
who held me gently
in your right tight jaw
that first year of college
when I was clearly unfastened
and needed a good buttoning down.
[Your mouth], my dear, rarely vengeful,
yet definitely sure & pre-loaded to shoot
me [straight and silver] in a precise firm
gripped way. You, [my sister], outlived my
lamp with his arthritic arm, and my scissors
who suddenly made herself callous and scarce.
[Swingline sister], you saw me through to my first
job, to my first house, and through all of my children
who took you and slightly abused you with their small
uneducated hands, with wild paper airplane plans, and baby
doll designer duds hooked together instead of sewn. [Swingline
sister], when I opened the drawer in the kitchen today and held
you, [my little lady], I discretely removed a scrap of scotch tape
from your belly, fearing exactly how long it might have been there.

Written for Blogging U

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13 thoughts on “[Swingline Sister]

    1. Maybe, Colleen. Everything can get a wee wobbly and goat-legged…like the Chevron bracket! {hugs}…I hate those squiggly lines, but gotta give it up now to you for the enlightening link.

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