When This Is All Over

I have learned to hand-stitch violets on t-shirt collars & make green-tea matcha lattes out of almond milk & powder. come morning, I cook my egg sunny-side up.

come evening, I try not to grieve.

when I say I love him, I mean I love sitting in a crowded coffee shop

with him; petri dish for germs, Germ-X safely tucked away.

we’ve long-since decided to turn off the news.

cherry blossoms flowered this spring. our neighborhood bloomed at dawn.

we walked & waved across sidewalk streets but did not reach toward each other.

this would come later, we knew. until then, we see & are seen.

he says ‘when this is all over’ often.

When This Is All Over let’s spend months by the sea.

When This Is All Over, we’ll have brunch out every week.

When This Is All Over, you can see your sister on lower east side.

buy a bus tour through time square. ride subway cars to brooklyn bridge;

watch tourists take Instagram’s with sun-baked arches backed by cloudless sky.

I miss petting dogs. When This Is All Over, I will pet so many dogs.

afterward, I’ll buy a starbucks macchiato with too much sugar—go to grocery stores

just to drift down the aisle. on easter, we’ll visit his parents. I’ll hug his mother hello.

we’ll dye eggs in pinks, yellows, blues. if she runs out of eggs, we’ll stop & buy more.

I will come to mass, without fight. at 5:45 we’ll set the table. at 5:50 we’ll pray.

when I browse through new watches in-store, I hope I’ll feel lucky

to keep track of my time. I tack calendars to our bedroom wall -

count out our precious days. april 12th. may 1st. july. I set my alarm for 5:15

though work doesn’t start until 9. I pour my matcha. fry my egg.

I hope the sun will rise.