how to disappear

become a ghost that haunts the narrative. a presence

that is questioned. be there, but in the background:

anchor yourself to the wall, aerial roots puncturing

plaster until you are part of the room, until you are

the room itself; speak only when spoken to,

voice a whisper, like autumn leaves stirred

by light breeze, indiscernible from the sigh

of the building’s bones. make yourself small, smaller,

until you cease to exist in corporeal form

and become a shadow, a phantom, an imprint.

until they question whether you were only ever

a fabrication, a wish that has since faded into nonbeing.

until they forget to remember you at all.