Catch

The air is sharp enough to cut the skin

above my collar. I'm already late for the shift.

I pull the slider up, but the metal’s thin

and the teeth have started to drift.

One tiny tooth is bent out of the line,

a silver hitch in the jacket’s black track.

I yank it hard, trying to make it fine,

but I’m trapped halfway between moving and back.

The wind gets in through the gap in the chest.

I stand on the porch and I curse the cheap brass.

It’s a small, stupid failure, but like all the rest,

it’s a wall I’m not sure I can pass.