First Life

In my first life I was a child
the memories lie
like a layer of snake skin
translucent and fragile
its pattern infinitely delicate
just an echo of who I was
It's all there
the tire swing that hung
above that patch of trampled dirt
my fear of spiders
and of my father
the way the backyard felt like the whole world
because what else was there?
I'd like to think I loved that life
but I always looked forward
to the next one
when I would be grown up and free