The Catch

The air outside

has teeth this morning.

I know because I felt it

down my sternum,

a sudden cold claw

when the zipper quit.

Halfway up, it locked,

a metal grimace.

Teeth mangled,

cloth bunched, a snarl

of nylon, stubbornly refusing

to close the gap.

I pulled, I pushed,

tried to force the thing,

a tiny battle

on a Tuesday.

My breath fogged the mirror.

It felt like everything lately.

Almost there.

Almost shut.

But then,

the catch.

The cold, still leaking in.