Stuck

The zipper's stuck and won't move back or forth,

the metal teeth jammed, frozen in place.

My favorite jacket, now a thing of no worth,

caught between two states, stuck in this space.

I've yanked the pull-tab a hundred times,

hoping force will make it give.

Nothing. The zipper won't chime,

won't budge. This is how it will live.

I stand before the mirror, half-dressed,

coat hanging open, neither here nor there.

I could cut the zipper off, I confess,

could wear it open, stop my care.

But I keep trying. Keep yanking hard.

Keep hoping that this time it will move,

that this pull, this force, won't leave me scarred,

that somehow I can make it improve.

It won't. The teeth are frozen solid.

But I keep pulling anyway.

Because this is how I live, pallid—

yankingat what won't sway.