Bobbypin
by David Calbert
I found your bobby pin
Slid absently in my jacket sleeve
I brought it to my nose
Hoping it retained a whisper
Of your perfume
I have dreams that I’m
A river
Bastard body scooping
Muddy fingernails through
A dry riverbed
In the valley of Apotheosis
The thirsty dust sizzles and shrieks
Like pork fat bubbling in a skillet early Sunday morning
Grease trap to catch discarded
Cartilage that dreamed of once
Hardening into bone
I found your bobby pin
As blameless as a wasp sting
It sang off my buttons
But gave away nothing
Funny how such a little thing can arouse such hope that develops into prodigious imagery and then dwindles to nothing.