Just gravity pulling what free
bodies it touches down, and at times
their refusal. Despite this shaking over
the mouth of the trash, a plate
holding its residue. Adherence the new
law of frustration guiding
this moment
        toward intervention: the scraping
loose of some sediment, salt
and sugar texturing my bone
memory of pleasure with you–

having shuddered, having thrown my hollow
to loosen your grip, I assign the edge

the incision to suss out
your excess, and ringing the bell, rinse
my face for the scrubbing clean.

The post Cling appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.