A bright summer day seems a strange time to anticipate how I will MOURN the loss of you. I know not how or if that day will come, I just know it will defy all LOGIC and engender confusion, deep inside me. I imagine that I will weep over your SOCKS, the very ones that made you oh so miserable. That our carefully CODED and curated grocery list on the fridge will unleash cascading waves of emotion. That every item that caused tension between us will become without fail the source of a deep longing, proof positive that walking towards tension is to walk in relationship. My future self, my self without you (should it come – in truth, though, the alternative is also painful to contemplate) will COVET this very summer morning. I will fill with angry envy over the when we sat, tension-filled — I, grumpy with you, over what now seems a trifle.

Georg’ann

When I returned home he was eating
a warmed cinnamon roll swimming
in imposter maple SYRUP
left over from the morning
the final bite that holds the day like bookends
It started early, a CHAIN
of events set in motion even before
delicious dark coffee had been poured
today served with no sprinkle
of cinnamon, dash of cardamom or hint of CLOVE
at this late hour, I COVET
clean sheets, the weight of my comforter, a few pages of a mediocre novel
I put myself and this day to rest

Heather