"This frequently uncertain text
does not invoke what is fixed

but instead the sensation of momentarily brushing
against something corporeal and amorous

a gesture given in passing to what has seduced,
coerced or momentarily given the impermanence of delight.

“Here is a moment… I drink it liquid from the shells
of my hands and almost all of it runs sparkling
through my fingers.”

— Clarice Lispector"

Shannon May Powell reflects on Can we rest tonight in // the amnesia of pleasure.