I have never 

been much

for New Year’s

resolutions,

though

I tend 

to set

goals

anyway.

Of course

I forget 

the goals

I set

within weeks.

But 

at the end

of each

year

I promise

to adhere

to flossing.

My oral hygiene

is otherwise

pristine

with electric

toothbrush

and water pic.

But flossing

consistently

continues

to elude me;

I hate it.

It’s gross.

And my teeth

are too close

on one side.

That aside,

I know

it’s important

and despite

this chore

I abhor,

I want to

explore

the spaces

between—

flossing

as metaphor.

In 2023

the unexpected

tested

my ability

to adapt.

Being 

in the space

between 

what had seemed

to be

solid structures,

then fearing

erosion,

with protruding

particles

that needed

removing,

I often chose

merely

disapproving

hoping

to let

stuff dissolve.

But from

the personal

to the political

I now resolve

again,

this time

publicly,

to floss

each day;

to clear

a space

where no

articles

or particles

of what was

otherwise

digested,

remain

taunting

my tongue.

Committing 

to thread

instead

of mere 

disgust,

even when

there’s plenty 

of disgust

to discuss,

I intend to

explore

the metaphor

of flossing:

tossing

my own gunk

away

to better survey

all the stories

we replay

and say

on assumption

post

consumption.

Here’s 

to a cleaner

and healthier

space

we create

by resolution

and constitution

(and prosecution)

and evolution

and conclusion.

Flossing as metaphor

in 2024—

clearing space

to embrace

the better,

and to rid us

of the disgrace

that has threatened

our health.

Happy 

and Healthy

New Year!