The Tension Limit

I found it under a pile of old mail,

tangled in a hair and a coffee crumb.

A silver wire, thin and pale,

waiting for the pressure of a thumb.

The router is dead, the light is red,

and I need a point to press the reset.

I bent the metal until the shape fled,

a jagged wire I’m beginning to regret.

It didn't spring back when the pressure quit.

It just stayed crooked, a silver scar.

There’s no way to fix the curve of it

now that I’ve pushed the metal too far.