rewriting my “away” message
so someone laughs.

even if silence
stands perforated
like recycled paper
used to host petals
ready to quiver
beyond waking walls.

no one responds
or reaches out,
wondering where I go
and contemplate when
phones keep ringing
and brakes curse colds.

edges of cacti
somehow fail to
scare me motionless
as I have wandered far
while everyone asks
about the last word said.

the fullness of time
falls into patient courts.

Cat No. 103 of the 500 Cats Project