By Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman. Directed by Genevieve Fleming. A Theatre Plexus production. At the Havana Theatre on Thursday, June 4. Continues until June 14

Playwright Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman was 15 when her mom died of cancer, and she was still a teenager when, inspired by that experience, she wrote Scratch.

Right off the top, Anna, the central character, says, “My mother is dying and I have lice. Fuck.” As we flash back to the young Anna—at maybe about six—then work forward again towards her mom’s diagnosis and death, the lice become a metaphor for Anna’s overwhelming anxieties, and then for her obsessive post-traumatic replaying of events.

Corbeil-Coleman’s script is full of poetry. In the opening series of short monologues, each of the characters begins his or her speech with “If this were my story.” The repetitive incantation is lovely, and the device delivers quick little sketches of everybody, including Anna’s uptight aunt, whose story would be full of “fresh Kleenex. Always.”

Corbeil-Coleman’s wit bursts with surprising details. “The room had too much turquoise,” Anna says, describing her therapist’s office. “You know, like someone who has gone to Mexico and they really want you to know they’ve gone to Mexico.”

Truth twines its way through the playfulness. In many scenes, the characters are so caught up with their own narratives that they fail to notice what’s going on with one another. And, when a character called the Poet, who has been hired to feed Anna’s mom, presents his girlfriend with a self-conscious verse about grief, she responds: “You want tragedy? Watch me put on a sweater, or eat my corn flakes. True tragedy lives in the ordinary, not in poetry.” (Yes, this is didactic, which is one of the play’s weaknesses, but it’s also worth hearing.)

There is virtually no plot in Scratch, the story’s trajectory is inevitable, and the play could lose 10 of its 90 minutes and be better for it. The lice metaphor wears out before the play ends. Some of the imagery tips towards teen-angst poetry: “That’s when everyone started borrowing smiles.” And the script can feel tangential—as when the Poet arrives notably late in the proceedings and suddenly becomes a significant character.

Still, the quirkiness—and honesty—of the writing keeps Scratch remarkably buoyant.

Besides, this production positively glows with the commitment that the artists of Theatre Plexus bring to it. Stephanie Izsak, who plays Anna’s best friend Madelyn, has the extraordinary ability to bring surprise and depth to everything she says—without being showy about it. Madelyn loves Anna’s mom, but she is excluded from her death. “It does matter,” Madelyn says, “because I’m all alone.” Markian Tarasiuk puts sly spin on the Poet’s narcissism. As Aunt, Tamara McCarthy brings enormous feeling to a figure who could look like a cliché. You can see the emotional fatigue accumulate in David Bloom’s Father. Eileen Barrett is grounded and generous as Mother. And Caitlin McCarthy’s furious grief as Anna is heartbreaking.

Director Genevieve Fleming deserves credit for selecting this cast, for establishing such a consistently open emotional tone, and for delivering a generally tight physical production.

There are some good reasons why Scratch shouldn’t work, but, in the end, the reasons that it should work win.