becoming unmapped

I. frayed

"I still know where we keep the spoons." I say out loud to the kitchen.
Sometimes I open a cupboard just to discover what I've forgotten.
I remember your birthday, say it silently every bedtime like a prayer.
Some names crumble as I reach for them but only, so far, the boring ones.
There was a word on my tongue today I let it dissolve like aspirin.

II. unravelled

where was I?
this story has a beginning you said          you said I walked off in my slippers
I was going somewhere the market or the sea the whole morning smelled of salt
your name is further off like something I wave at from the harbour
I speak in cutlery I told the doctor that she laughed too much

III. unmapped

this isn’t the same room     so badly run
that chair wasn’t     nor the tv
the music though

    one name feels a label hung on thread
        it must be me,             be mine
you touch my hand     and I am
here    but   you
    and the weather how did you find me?