VARNISH

      VARNISH             TIM WILLIAMS          SEPT. 2014

TONIGHT I FELT EXPOSED OUT THERE
MY ILLNESS MADE ME FEEL VULNERABLE,
AN OPEN WOUND, A GAPING SORE,
A POET STANDING NAKED BEFORE YOU
OR MAYBE JUST A FLASHER, A PERVERT IN A PARK.

MY FEET ROOTED TO THE SAWDUST STAGE,
MY WORDS FOR THE FIRST TIME, TENDER NOT BRASH,
ARE BECOMING HOMELESS AS THEY DEPART MY MOUTH
AND RUN INTO THE SPOTLIGHT, AND THEN BEYOND
AND THEY EVAPORATE INTO THE EVENING AIR.

BUT YOU MY AUDIENCE AND YOU MY FRIENDS,
YOU SMILED, YOU LOOKED SERIOUS, YOU LAUGHED
IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES, YOU HELD TIGHTLY
ONTO MY SAFETY NET, YOU APPLAUDED
AND GAVE ME STRENGTH.

BUT IS'NT IT STRANGE WHAT A RAW EXPOSED
NERVE YOU ARE WHEN YOU ARE CARRYING
AN ILLNESS INSIDE OUT ONTO A SAWDUST STAGE
AND THE USUAL LAYERS OF LIFES VARNISH ARE REMOVED.