Tomorrow, I’m going to paint my toenails fuchsia, bright and cheerful. I set aside my boots and pretend I’m sinking my feet into beach sand. One step, squish, grains stuck to my feet. I shouldn’t have vaselined. I hear the roar of the water, ocean breeze blowing in my face, plastering my hair and clothes to my body, carrying away the tension…

Of zoom zombying

Of manufactured projects on artificial deadlines

Of daughters too grown for their mothers

Of dreams deferred

Of grief, despair, guilt, fatigue, fear

Of the hate of strangers

Of the daring of hope