Bobby Pin Ode

You are nobody’s house pet
plier-gnarled road
smirking loop
there are two ways to travel you:
straight and oil slick
or arched back curve
ripple and repeat
luring in strands of hair
and pinching them captive

You are nobody’s constant
the weight of leaving
your mark
on someone else’s bedside table

You are blood metal bite
brittle on the tongue
clicking between teeth
Ms. Placed wanderer,
going silently
has never been your style

You are faulty lock pick
stubborn to bend
rubber-edged reminder
scratch in tree
name in diner booth
that I was here
rearranging myself
once before

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