» Poetry

Zipper

John Paul Davis

We were born in the era
of having to balance
our checkbooks

& we’ve lived
through that to the time
of tracking transactions
with handheld computers

which are also telephones
we only use when we must
though I’ll confess

when you were overseas
I’d call your voicemail
just to hear you
say your own name

which is my first favorite music.
Second is your keys
dancing in the deadbolt
when you get home from work

& third, the sound of your laugh
on the other side of a wall.

You mumble in your sleep
& do vocal warm-ups in the shower
& eat cereal in bed yes

this is the age of eating in bed
while watching the best television
on tiny screens, this is the era

of falling asleep in our clothes
with the light on holding
each other, this is the year
of staying home & mumbling

sweetly to each other locking
fingers & inventing novel
ways of expressing our feelings
without words for example

there’s the metallic
percussion when I tug
apart your zipper

in the doorway by the bucket
where we keep our outdoor shoes,
there’s the creak of floorboards
as I kneel, there’s the quiet rabbit
of your hand in mine.

Even when we’re miles apart
my body is a playlist streaming
to yours, my ankles & beard
& earlobes & forearms & belly button

& every hair, all of my pink
skin, I’m an afternoon of song
arranged in this specific order
for you. Dance to me, wash

dishes to me, sing along to me folding
laundry, read a play
with me on in the background
take me with you on your long commute,
dark of my voice in your headphones.