You walk in, full arms all papers, water bottle and inadvertent slam
door against the wall and a cringe sorry to nobody in particular
in the empty waiting room. You try
for the appearance of nonchalance
like you’ve done this before, stomach twisting out prayers
as you wait, wonder why, and then
it’s your turn. Strong hand shake, smile
offer real, look him in the eye respond, and when he finally asks
if you would like to share some of your poems
you say yes, yes, I would, and you step up
to the borrowed music stand
your pop art sign glowing like a bright star
against every feeling of inadequacy
open your mouth
and speak him into believing.
When it is over he says good, good
and you feel a giddy gut pull where
you are almost sure
writing words and speaking words and living words
is more than just a square peg in a square hole.
SDG