Habit of Stone

The dentist's pick,

cold steel on my molars.

He said, 'Still clenching, aren't you?'

like it was a bad secret,

something I should confess.

My temples ache,

a dull throb behind the ears.

I press my fingers to the skin,

feel the muscle

flex, hard,

a stone under the flesh.

It happens when I'm driving.

Or just watching the news.

A quiet tightening,

a fist made of bone.

No thought

behind it. Just the grip.