The Ghost in the Closet

The jacket is stiff and the color is wrong.

I haven’t been that guy for way too long.

I pulled on the sleeve and I held in my breath,

fighting a zipper like life against death.

Then came the sound of a thread giving way,

a copper-colored snap at the end of the day.

It’s still on the chair in a heap by the wall,

waiting for someone who’s not me at all.