When I recite poetry, I take my glasses off

Not because the glare of the lights 

Or the nerves climbing my spine like children on a playground

No, as I walk onto the stage, each step a mountain, 

The lights are never bright enough to conceal your faces, all now fixed on me

My hands tremble like paper in the wind 

But do not hold the words I swore I had memorized just moments ago

 

I adjust the mic

I step back, head down, eyes closed as though in prayer

I remove my glasses

Find the words again, my safety rail, 

Step forward and speak

My words fill the air 

And you are all but blurred shapes

Smeared paint against the backdrop of my voice 

Poets whisper sweet secrets in my ears and they come from my mouth

But is it plagiarism if those words are sewn into the fabric of my heart?

 

This is no longer the real world

Time, physics, reality are all suspended

We are everywhere and nowhere, gone and present

In this moment, it is easy to imagine that amoung your fuzzy images, my mother sits

Her eyes are softly closed and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips

In this moment, she isn't so far away

In this space, she can hear my words

Because she never would have missed a chance to hear me recite poetry

This is the closest I've ever come to a divine experience

And as long as your here, Mom, I might as well let you know

I wrote this one for you

 

After I've finished speaking, there's a pause

This otherworldly space is slipping

The dying breath of this golden, preternatural moment

 

Then comes the applause

 

I put my glasses back on