Memory
Rooms I Have Misremembered
Fragments of old houses, family voices, and unreliable light.
SoundCloud placeholder
Audio reading will be embedded here.
Audio reading will be embedded here.
Read the written poem
There are rooms I have misremembered
into kindness: a yellow chair,
a door that never stuck,
my mother humming weather into soup.
Memory is a house with generous windows
and no reliable floor.
Notes: Could work as a slower page poem, with a spoken version recorded close to the mic.