watching my beloveds through Facetime

the tens of tens of apps downloaded

so I can hear the scattered voices

of everyone I love & the silence

of my apartment building so loud

my whole world is now my kitchen

& yellow couch & I haven’t touched

anyone in days, my fingers press into

my own body, I surprise myself in the mirror

it’s raining outside & my skin feels so hollow

the meditation says to think of a happy day

I remember being packed in that wooded

house for Angel & Hieu’s graduation

& Danez saying “the bitch can’t dance”

as I wiggled my flailing body, trying

& how easy it was to hold Safia’s hand

my knee against Shira’s in the back of the minivan

to brush the hair out of Sam’s eyes

as we played Ja Rule too loud on the way

to weep at our friends graduating the bitch

of an MFA, the years we’ve all spent

in heartache of a thing we might be good at

the years spent changing cities, moving

farther & farther from our loves because

this might be it & ‘might’ is a strong word

like this might be our new lives & this might

be forever, the ellipses of waiting & all

the mights pile up together around my bed

in the morning I have to sift through the mights

to make my day worthwhile, to push my body

into prayer, I have to work to not

let the mights get stuck in my chest

to not drown in their sorrow

& we’ve spent years preparing for the apocalypse

when the white boys took up torches

& when that idiot got elected & ice continued

to melt, but I never thought it would be like this

us all, islanded, watching each other on screens

& before, when we could hold each other

when we didn’t know it would end like this

Danez and I promised when the world

was really coming to an end, like truly

coming to an end, we would find

each other in our best dresses, I would maybe

even buy a fur, and we’d ride it out together

& on the phone, we say, well bitch. This might be it.