I hope this email does not find you well. I hope this email does not find you And instead arrives to a desk overgrown with moss, Lit quietly by a shard of light through your collapsed apartment ceiling And that the silence that it finds there is simply deafening.
I hope this email does not find you And that it goes around the corner to your kitchen Where your discarded dishes stand like lichened towers, And that it will not find you staring into the refrigerator Saying “There’s nothing to eat,” to the bread and eggs and strawberries – long gone. I hope that you are nowhere to be found.
I hope this email does not find you Scouring the bathtub, dusting cobwebs out of cupboards. I hope the ivy has taken over the couch And surrounded all the cushions, blanketed the armrests. I hope that birds are nesting in your wifi router And that a family of squirrels has made a home in your utensil drawer.
I hope this email does not find you Because you are far away and doing something gorgeous, And that you haven’t given me a second thought. I hope this email never finds you. I hope this email never catches up.
Anna Stacy, I Hope This Email Never Finds You
