Zipper

A snaking mouth sloughs two spines, the rattle of small vertebrae and delicate teeth. A woman learns to ride them, feels the trombone slide of a dragon’s tail. A man lifts tugging fingers, not wanting to fumble as ill-illuminated aluminum rails bite. The zipper knits together lusts or shuns and strips a thought away. Body bags become bodily prayers. It is a widening gash gleaming - lip-gloss for unpainted desires. Zippers may squeeze a tight throat, or close an open face. Buttons are collected or lost, though once in a while rescued from a box of other tangled trinkets.