On Cadre #3. To Believe in this Living.

A poem by Amy Miller Dear friends, political intimates, beloved chosen family. We are. Physically distant. Struggling. Together attempting smart, fresh, grounded, moment-seizing – getting shit done in new and unsettling ways. And we may also struggle on our intimate fronts and battle with our own minds, hearts, bodies. And/or. With those   with whom   we find ourselves. Ok, I can own it. I am struggling. I forget. Do I watch pandemic news today? Or hide away? Do I work, walk, browse boys online with my queer self, or make lunch for my kid? Is it time for one more phone