"can i come?"
"no."
"why?"
"because this is the only journey
you cannot follow."
"that's ridiculous."
the shadow laughs.
"i've followed you everywhere."
it begins counting
on fingers
it doesn't have.
"through puddles.
through churches.
through airports
that smelled like oranges.
through every haircut
you regretted.
through the afternoon
you tried to run away
when you were nine."
"i know."
"through every fever."
"i know."
"through every goodbye."
"i know."
"through every time
you pretended
you weren't crying."
"i know."
"then why can't i come?"
the body looks
towards something
the poem
cannot see.
"because there isn't
any light there."
the shadow thinks.
for a very long time.
then—
"we'll invent one."
"you can't."
"watch me."
it untangles itself
from the body's feet
and becomes
a ladder.
a violin.
wednesday.
none of them work.
"i'll become useful."
it folds itself
into an umbrella.
immediately
it begins raining
indoors.
"you're making weather again."
"i'm helping."
it becomes
a coat hook.
three birds
hang their songs there
before winter.
"see?"
"i do."
"i'm indispensable."
"a little."
the shadow bursts
through the floorboards
like a whale
forgetting
which ocean
it belongs to.
"did you miss me?"
"a little."
"SEE?"
"i do miss you."
"then i'll come."
"no."
"..."
"i'll become
something else."
"..."
"anything else."
the body waits.
"a bird?"
"you'll still be a shadow."
"a cloud?"
"a shadow."
"a staircase?"
"a shadow."
"a bridge?"
"a shadow."
"a window?"
"a shadow."
the shadow thinks.
longer this time.
"a song?"
"..."
"closer."
it brightens.
"a secret?"
"closer."
"a rumour?"
"closer."
"a promise?"
"..."
"warmer."
"a dream?"
"..."
"warmer."
"a memory?"
"..."
"very warm."
"love?"
the body smiles.
"so warm
you're beginning
to disappear."
the shadow grins.
"that means
i'm getting somewhere."
"..."
"i'll become
the sound
keys make
inside pockets."
"why?"
"because
you always
carry them."
"..."
"i'll become
the smell
of your favourite jumper."
"..."
"the quiet
between
two heartbeats."
"..."
"your left sleeve."
the body laughs.
"i don't think
that's how sleeves work."
"they've never tried."
"..."
"i'll become
the reason
dogs suddenly stop
and stare
at nothing."
"..."
"they'll be
looking at me."
"..."
"i'll become
that feeling
when someone
calls your name
but nobody did."
"..."
"the missing button
on your favourite coat."
"..."
"the place
birds go
when children
stop pointing
at them."
"..."
"the smell
after someone leaves."
the body is quiet.
"you're already
most of those."
the shadow blinks.
"..."
"..."
"really?"
"yes."
the shadow smiles
so widely
that every crescent moon
forgets
which way
to face.
"then..."
it says.
"i'm almost ready."
the body
doesn't answer.
the shadow frowns.
every mirror
in the house
forgets
whose face
it belongs to.
"remember
the little boy
outside the bakery?"
"..."
"yes."
"he waved."
"yes."
"you waved back."
"yes."
"i waved too."
"..."
"he only smiled
at you."
the body is quiet.
"i know."
"i never liked him."
"you liked everyone."
"i liked them
less."
the shadow kicks
a pebble.
it becomes
a small planet
for exactly
eight seconds.
"remember
when you fell in love?"
"..."
"i remember."
"you disappeared."
"i was right there."
"no."
"where did i go?"
"inside
somebody else's eyes."
silence.
a button
rolls uphill.
neither of them
mentions it.
"when you hugged
your mother—
i was there."
"i know."
"when your father
lifted you
onto his shoulders—
i was there."
"i know."
"when you learned
to whistle."
"i know."
"when you forgot
how."
"i know."
"they all thought
they loved you
the most."
"..."
"they were wrong."
the body smiles.
"jealous?"
"very."
"of everyone?"
"..."
"mostly."
"mostly?"
the shadow
looks away.
"...the light."
"the light?"
"it always
thought
you belonged
to it."
"..."
"i hated sunsets."
"i know."
"you looked
at them
for too long."
"they were beautiful."
"so was i."
the body laughs.
"yes."
the shadow blinks.
"really?"
"you looked
exactly
like home."
for a moment,
the shadow
forgets
to be dark.
"who will stand
beside you?"
"..."
"no one."
"don't lie."
"i'm not."
"you always
have someone."
"not
where i'm going."
"..."
"that sounds
lonely."
"it is."
"won't you
miss me?"
the body kneels.
the grass,
thinking
this is important,
grows
very quietly.
"i already do."
"but i'm
still here."
"i know."
"then how?"
"because
missing someone
has very little
to do
with distance."
the moon
hangs
a little lower
to hear better.
"what if
i become
your memory?"
"you already are."
for the first time,
the shadow
looks frightened.
it tries
to cry.
instead,
little eclipses
fall out of it
and hide
inside teacups,
beneath flowerpots,
behind sleeping cats.
years later,
children
will find them
and suddenly miss
someone
they have never met.
"i'll wait."
"you can't."
"i've waited
my whole life."
"i know."
"then i'll wait
longer."
the wind arrives.
not to carry
the body away—
only
to separate
what had mistaken
devotion
for forever.
the body
takes one step.
the shadow
doesn't.
another.
"fine."
the shadow says.
"i'll stay here."
"..."
"i wasn't coming anyway."
"..."
"you forgot your umbrella."
"..."
"you forgot your heartbeat."
"..."
"..."
"you're still there,
aren't you?"