Erosion

            Once I could have told you how I came to be in my house, which memories go with which underlying beam. I remember most clearly the morning I was born in a meadow. It was dewy and I yelped when my toes touched the grass. I lay here with my head on the bathtub because it feels like my mother’s trembling stomach that morning. Someone please remind me how I am now wrapped in these itchy blankets. The walls are shifting like a labyrinth, where are the clover heads? My heart wanders and I have lost my sense of smell.