I can lie in my bed with my eyes closed
and jump from room to room.
I am lying on my right ear,
so at the apartment I am facing the changing table,
at the old house a chest of drawers,
at my Grandma’s the closet doors,
in Spain, a small space and Alaina,
at Mt. Rainier, the window,
at Sol Duc, the wall.
I open my eyes to come back,
to find myself in my bed,
facing my husband,
at home.