Half-Pinned

Crack—

sharp snap under porch light’s chill,

the clothespin split, its stubborn will

shattered small like brittle hope,

fraying lines too tight to cope.

Yellow plastic, cracked and bent,

a weightless snap of all that went

wrong this week, a tiny fight,

a broken clasp that quits the night.

Pinned half-dry against the wind,

like promises that don’t quite mend.

I let it fall, no force to bind,

the broken thing left far behind.