By Ruth Calder Murphy

You pick at my brain

like tapas...

Like tapestry,

embroidery,

un-picking me,

You revel

in my unravelling

and reveal glitches

in my stitches.

You Freud my friendships

and Jung my youth,

Klein my inclines

and my audacious two-faces

and haul my callings over the coals

of your Beck.

You psychology me,

tripping and trapping,

twisting and turning -

uncovering Me.