Maybe one time standing behind a podium
you heard voices and realized they were
what your own mouth just said and quickly
you grew accustomed to giving orders.
Or maybe standing there you said nothing
at all and the next thing you knew
some night shift nurse of the invisibly
wounded was monitoring your fitful dreams.
Like everyone, I’ll watch indefinitely while
the meant-to-be lovers stay a lip’s width apart
or a war zone, their shadows overlapping
like animals around a dried-up watering hole.
I keep expecting someone prettier when I look
in the mirror. See how we shatter then
reassemble as I turn away back into the day.
© Lisa Olstein
READ MORE POEMS BY THIS POET:
- That Magnificent Part the Chorus Does about Tragedy
- Dear One Absent This Long While
- In the Meantime
- [White Spring]
- I Saw a Brand New Look
- Where the Use of Cannon Is Impractical
- What We’re Trying to Do is Create a Community of Dreamers
- Dream in Which I Love a Third Baseman
- Run Every Race as if It’s Your Last
- Radio Crackling, Radio Gone