The Power of Three

As I came out of my mother’s womb I was knocking on wood,

banging on the bed three times to make the sounds stop.

My fingers crossed themselves before they knew what it meant,

curling around each other the way blackened fingertips clutch onto wandering pennies,

the way stark smiles clutch onto the heat of being alive. 

My eyes squeezed shut 

three times

three times

three times

to ward off the blaring babble in my mind 

that grew loud until loud was louder was loudest 

and I couldn’t separate living from dying or smiling from crying. 

I knocked

I knocked

I knocked 

my way through childhood,

chastising children for being children the way children were supposed to be. 

Inquietude seeped slowly into my salad days, 

scolding my innocence for forgetting cleanliness in exchange for friendliness. 

Inquietude infiltrated the sweetest moments in exchange for soiled ones, 

demanding action when I didn’t want to act.

Inquietude sat upon my shoulder like a conscience,

coldly crying out for control while life clasped its reins,

hand-cuffing chaos for a chance at crystallized childhood.

My thoughts thrusted threats of terror,

taking timeless tremors and turning them into forever,

forgoing friendships and friday nights 

for tongue-tied, criss-cross applesauced evenings

spent perfecting perfect perfectionism,

acting alone and feeling lonely. 

Legs crossed coldy, chanted pleasantries of playground pastimes

as slivers of softened sarcasm wished today away,

but begged tomorrow to last a little longer. 

Eyes closed crying, eyes closed shaking, shivering,

eyes closed sweating, swaying,

while my bones knotted themselves together, twisted themselves silly,

and grinded, buckled, pretzeled perfect posture

to distract from the palpable weeds sprouting between the cracks 

of my starry-eyed mind. 

Stickying stutters and sauced fingertips 

traced cursive in my palms, 

planted seeds of disquietude into my preschool mind, 

hijacked juvenescence for a disheveled patchwork of normality 

while recess regurgitated nightmares and

I knocked

I knocked

I knocked

 to make it all stop.

Begging for a taste of silenced sanity

braided into girls I dreamt of being,

I molted madness in that peanut butter sunshine. 

And today, I knock

I knock

    I  knock.