Betty Luceigh, 10/12

There was a long itch last night
inside my brain,
but my hand could not reach
through my skull to matters grey
and convoluted.

I tried to use my thoughts
like Brain Benadryl
or faux fingertips
back and forth, back and forth,
in a desperate effort
to scratch away
an annoyance in my awareness,
something unresolved
tickling a neuronal loop
I couldn’t identify or stop.

So instead, when morning came,
I took a rake to the top of my hill
and found relief
as I scratched away the leaves
the wind had swirled about the trail
during the night.