Tangled in this junk drawer
like a mass of mating snakes,
remember that you are versatile.

You seal bags of goldfish at county fairs,
prevent candles from wobbling,
clasp newspapers so they’ll hit the porch,
hold asparagus in orderly bundles.

You are flexible enough to
power wind-up toys,
twist into kitschy bracelets,
tolerate the stretch and snap of fidgeters,
torment teachers’ pets.

You are strong enough to
stabilize needles in tattoo guns,
snap the wrists of habitual nail biters,
secure masks on people’s faces,
stop toddlers from opening cabinet doors.

Take heart — you have potential;
you are the connective force giving braces
the power to straighten human teeth.


This poem first appeared in Moss Piglet (2020).
Used here with permission.