Three Came Before the Erasure

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.