contact light

you are leaving

to the typography of unopened letters

and uncooked meals

where you say

i am changing constantly

but that may mean

i may come back

to me

when i wasn’t i

this person already

gone

this person already

unready

this person who wants

that one

with her dress floating as jellyfish

buttered onto fingertips of stinging speaking light

that tastes like a pear

i dared to eat

even if it wasn’t ripe yet

even if there was no tree yet

even if the world itself

wasn’t born into the accident of night

where one day

on an unexpected tuesday

with sleeping television shows and cats curling yellow

there will be cracks left lonely

since creation

cracks that have the space

to go

elsewhere

and apart

from me

and more