Fidgety

The tie is tied too tight around the neck
The glue behind the bindi itches my forehead
My hair sticks to my scalp, as I comb it in place

All the plates, spoons, forks are
Stocked in the cutlery drawer
Color-coded, size-wise

Remaining utensils have
Been scrubbed dry
Few sit on the wooden shelf
Beside the sink
Dripping dry

The drawing board sits on my lap
Pencil is used to make faint outlines
Crayons are used to color within

Scribbles, strokes, splashes
All neatly tucked
Where they make sense

There is not an empty blotch
As I scribble my head
Into papyrus thin—
And emptiness perhaps

Is all that scratches, still