The zipper on my spine

My skin is the only onesie
that seems to fit me.
But from time to time
it feels like I’ve slipped
into someone else’s.
On the occasions I’ve wished
to tear those off,
the zipper on my spine has jammed;
a set of smiling metal teeth reminding me
that sometimes things are not easy,
and that’s OK.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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