It is my first day of kindergarten
The school board didn’t want me
Because of what happened
In preschool
Little girls shouldn’t behave that way
It wasn’t entirely my fault
“Safety scissors” is a misnomer, after all
Besides, I’m sure the little boy
Will recover completely
With some therapy
And plastic surgery
My reputation must precede me
For the other students shrink and recoil
As I walk by
I note that the teacher
Asks all students
To hand in their scissors
All of them locked in her desk
With the key around her neck
This should be a fun year
They even confiscate my crayon sharpener
Apparently a burnt sienna in the wrong hands
–In my hands–
Is too dangerous
For five-year-olds
They are even cautious
When I take out my markers
As though one whiff
Would send me on a spree
Give me some credit, people
I like to be completely lucid
While I work
Sniffing or drugs of any kind
Would only dampen the experience
This makes me grateful for my youth
Not quite old enough
To be force-fed psychotropics
For now I am left to my own designs
Using my blunt red crayon
To draw blood in my coloring book