The Microphone - March 7, 2024

even before I reach it

that Billy club on the podium

takes a swing at me

“with a wimpy voice like yours  

no one will care what you say

or pay any attention”

and when I speak into it

it booms out my words in an odd

vocal pitch and disembodied voice

but no one laughs

or whispers into a cupped ear

or stands to leave

so I settle my breath and enjoy

the strange but silky sound

of each line of my poem

and think as I sit down

You know Mr. Mike

underneath all that bullying

I bet you’re a sweet guy