She rapped my knuckles then whittled her pencil
to conform to the contours of my hand
She tapped with impatience on the kitchen table
a nearly indecipherable code
Like the mysterious guiding force of an Ouija board
across the page she led my hand
untame your tongue
spin the thread with twisted words
pierce the page with a running stitch
either French seam those lines with delicate rhymes
or shred the lining of politeness and
let it rip
How long have I scratched myself
to satisfy this itch of words
beneath my molting skin
this chrysalis of many moons
It’s time to break free