My mind like a womb
Teeming with a thousand milk white words
The segmented larva of bees or ants
Fighting and writhing their way
Into the birth canal of my arm
Gravity and the vacuum of my hand
Leading them single file to
The swelling abdomen of my pen
Where they emerge one by one
From its tiny vaginal tip
Squirming and twisting
Plop.. plop... plop...
Onto hospital white paper
Their chameleon skin changing
With my moods and my breathing
They begin to order themselves
Like school children before their headmaster
"Who remembers our lesson?"
I ask, threatening with my ruler