Audition
On stage, at the boys’ military academy,
I will recite while seated in my uniform:
white collared shirt tucked into leaf green skirt,
matching green socks stretched thin from tugging,
and brown buckle shoes. I press my knees together
matching green socks stretched thin from tugging,
and brown buckle shoes. I press my knees together
for integrity.
The poem of my choice is “Carrion Comfort”
which I have never uttered aloud. Gambling on
the intonation of “thy wring-world right foot rock?”
my voice is a filly cantering on a carousel,
stuck in the whirl of an incessant organist.
which I have never uttered aloud. Gambling on
the intonation of “thy wring-world right foot rock?”
my voice is a filly cantering on a carousel,
stuck in the whirl of an incessant organist.
Rows of boys I have looked at fleetingly, and
a cadre of girls who have something to assert––
like buoyant breasts or popularity––watch me read.
“Scan with darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones?”
a cadre of girls who have something to assert––
like buoyant breasts or popularity––watch me read.
“Scan with darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones?”
I’m losing my chance at the high school play.
Feeling queasy, uneasy––“me heaped there;
me frantic to avoid thee and flee?”
me frantic to avoid thee and flee?”
––as the final phrase disbands in dismay,
“I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.”
