three paperclips
one brown candle squats
lonely in a cold corner
as gray autumn
begins slipping
into dark winter
three paperclips lie beside it
discarded
and I wonder
about the candle’s flame
now extinguished
about the absent papers
now unclipped
is there perhaps
a fourth paperclip
lifted from the abandoned jumble
to experience
the thrills of interoffice mail
or the long, lonely exile
of a government’s underground archives
or maybe
it was twisted and bent
to poke at a stubborn lock
or wrought with haste
into a circle of angles
by a young man without time
to buy an engagement ring
before his ship sailed to battle
if only I had some papers
if only I had a match