mourning tender_square i wake too damn early from a dream where i'm balancing the needs of too many men. i rise and chop a salad for later, dishes three days deep in the sink. the house light is gauzy grey on this first monday of summer. i sit at the edge of my bed and weep while wrapping thin socks around my feet. it had something to do with being swaddled. i eat breakfast alone; i leave for a job that allows me to live, saying goodbye to no one. so easily the days accordion to compression and years can pass exactly this way, with stop gaps becoming routinized ways of coping. i tell myself i am a wild woman. i'm not convinced it's true. 230626 what's it to you? who go blather from