the infinitely small clasp

it's an intimate

thing, but

almost an impossible

task

for a woman to ask

you

to unsnap or snap

up

her dress,

or dainty

thing with your large

manly fingers.

zipper

me up, she might say,

or please

get the last

button

at the top,

near my neck.

but it's

so small, the clasp,

lost in

your big hands,

the tiniest of things,

and yet.

you try your best,

because

after all

you're a man and she

trusts

you with this.

it could mean everything.