Now that I have
my handwriting back
I can begin to build
my world.
Some people work in stone,
I prefer ink,
this sweet green
gliding across the page,
these fat, school girl lines
that have let me have
my true hand again,
allowed it to return,
like a doll imagined lost,
and kept it here long enough
that now I trust it
to stay.

Where did my handwriting
go those other years,
when it had to be
crammed in school’s
narrow lines,
the world’s small spaces,
and hurried schedules
that did not permit
slow curves and swoops,
pens that didn’t inspire me,
too much blue and black
but now –
it’s back!

1/23/98