wanting to be wanted

i feel bad about my black

stapler

that sits on the desk

next to a basket of pens,

a thin coat of dust

on its back,

that the maids missed.

i haven't used it since last

year,

march to be exact.

tax time,

when papers needed to come

together.

i wish i had more uses for it.

something for 

it to do.

it has the same staples in it

since 1982.

to make it happy and wanted

i slide two sheets of blank

paper

under its hungry mouth

and hit it down.

thank you, i hear it whisper.