with the sound of my voice,
as I tune into an online
radio reading of poetry
for the launch of a book
which includes my dumb words.
I sent in a recording,
because the pandemic
has paused live poetry readings,
plus this probably take place
in Long Island, which still scares me
since the August of 2008.
recorded in the dining room morning,
I listen and note the stammers
that no one would notice, but me,
and then I remind myself that there
are maybe ten poets listening to this,
if that, amirite?
my poem is first after intro,
and the hosts/editors mispronounce my name
like an inside joke, and I want to show my respect
by continuing to listen, but a beautiful girl
is texting me sexy scenarios
and I have to take a shower for two reasons.