Mechanical Failure

I’m dressed for a funeral in a room too hot,

struggling with a jacket that’s caught in its teeth.

One metal prong bent, a tiny silver knot,

locking me in with the panic underneath.

The pull tab hangs uselessly right at the chest,

neither open for air nor closed for the cold.

It’s a cheap bit of hardware failing the test,

a stubborn refusal to do what it's told.

I’m tugging at fabric, sweating through the shirt,

while the brass tracks grind in a jagged line.

It’s a small, sharp frustration that starts to hurt,

this middle-ground trap that is entirely mine.