memory is the kneading of an instant gone

I am eating an excellent plum
in the case between our kitchen and dining room
I was eating an excellent plum
I had washed
I was eating
the black purple skin
and dense fruit
and the pit is still in my mouth
I am worrying it
I was
eating a plum
after a nap
which made me feel ill
I had gone up
inspired by
vivid imaginings
of your
hot afternoon
dense flesh
and fallen asleep
in the hot
afternoon
I was
wet juice
excellent
plum
I ate so quickly
what seemed an experience
all meals
kissed
all moments
held
from is to was
are dense fruit
let go
full of joy
allowed to pass
and gone