mary, wrote strange.

There's something peculiar about Mary,
the way she moves, quite unnatural.
Yet, she writes with a precision
her university never taught.

Her hands are mechanical,
scribbling across the page,
callouses from a second-grade pencil,
etching memories in fluorescent
blue notebooks on pristine paper.

A semicolon here, a comma there,
spliced conjunctions that would make
her elementary teacher blush.
To be Mary, to be peculiar