Face Poetic Bloomings

 Public Speaking

 

I look out at forty or so faces.

I don’t really see them,

but I pretend I do.

I hear my voice and know it’s mine,

but somehow that voice and my mind

our two distinct people.

I pretend the sound flowing out of my mouth

is normal, something I’m comfortable with.

I believe what I’m saying,

while wondering if they will.

I pretend I’m a confident speaker.

I make a joke and they laugh.

I share some poems to illustrate my point

and hear a murmur of approval.

I finish. They clap. I sit down.

I survived,

but it feels like my brain’s going to whirr

and with a whine, shut down in a puff of smoke.