The snapped clothespin

A sudden snap, sharp splintered sound,

wood gives way beneath my grip.

Clothes flap wild and tumble down,

a line undone, a loose tight slip.

Jagged edges bite my skin,

scattered halves on cracked gray stone.

Frustration snaps like splinters in,

a rhythm broken, cold and lone.

Wind whips sharp, the clothespin breaks,

a small defeat against the day.

Laundry falls, a chain that shakes,

while quiet anger holds its sway.

Broken wood and scattered threads—

I gather none, just what’s left unsaid.