For the wannabe poet
who trembles in the audience at open mics
who fears the voice whispered through quivered lips
unable to amplify the voice shouted within

I saw a poet unable to see
the poem she recites from memory

I saw a poet whose ears knew silence
but whose hands roared sign language

I saw a poet gesticulate his face
to replace the hands he lacked

I saw a poet crawl on stage
before he falls to oblivion

I saw a poet wheel on stage
and roll away with the prize

I felt a poet's slurred, incomprehensible words
vibrate their meaning to my body

I heard a poet unable to read a word
but able to recite a library

I heard a poet whose computer talks
but whose synthesized voice sings

I heard a poet so sick
she spoke her last rites into the mic

But I have yet to hear you
who trembles in the audience at open mics
who fears the voice whispered through quivered lips
unable to amplify the voice shouted within

It's so nice to see you
It's even better to hear you