You cannot remember, nor can I, the real
simplicity and complexity of being three.
The blissful ignorance of the world, mixed
with the frustration of using a fork. The stabbing
never stops. It becomes a never-ending ingestion
of the insistent world—at odds
with what feels natural.
I can only vaguely remember yesterday—
because my head is so full of it—
the great man-made erasure.