They are watching me and have so many eyes,
This organic phenomena called audience,
Silent for a moment as I do my reading,
A grey sea of heads, obliged
To listen carefully to what is told.
Once I’m inside the poem I forget them,
Not wondering about their verdict,
Concentrating on my own words
As if they really matter,
My inner soul revealed
Now the words unfold.
But someone there might guess
That inside every proclaimed line
I do worry about my fly
And will the zipper hold.