Clinging by Mark O’Connor

Standard

To cling, by a breaking fingernail, to an undercut cliff,

not letting your leg pivot and swing out over the valley,

and to note with one eye as you fight off panic,

the faint line of a cycad fossil in that jut of rock

by which your life will hang—this will make your hand

move about the rock, exploring, caressing,

in search of some slight peculiar thing

by which love’s fingernail could cling.

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