A zipper that jammed halfway - Sofia Kioroglou

Originally Published in Poetry Super Highway

Walking through the Old City of Jerusalem
over cobblestones slick with rain,
I drink in the sensory rush

In its tumults, I heave and roll like a ship
the echoes of the wind reverberating more
like a Swiss milkmaid than a strangled cat

The drumming of winter rain
that deep chord of familiarity
stirring a welter of emotions indefinable

Caught between the past and the present,
like a zipper jammed halfway, with metal teeth
ground to a halt, peace is digging its heels in

To get it, sometimes you have to let it go
by grabbing the stalled tongue and yanking it hard
the friction, a tertium quid camp.