Wish I Could be Still

By Don Munro

Wish I could be still
legs, heart shake behind a podium,
voice jumps,
no control.
Pure fear,
its tasteĀ on my teeth,
despite my efforts to breathe deep,
laugh off this audience of writers
as just people, too.
Wish I could be still,
as I stand before them,
expose my words, my very core
and wait for them to clap
or be silent
or laugh
at my creations — at me.
Wish I could be still
the next time,
because even as I walk back to my seat
after the critique,
all glowing,
all applause,
I fear that I will shake again
from fear.