Regular Poem: Hot Mic

26 Apr

I can think of better
ways to go,
but it’s right up there
in the top ten
below
being killed heroically foiling a kidnapping
and above
being mauled by a bear.

Her last words were,
“Is anyone else even singing?
All I can hear in my monitor
is my own throaty purr
in a popping void.”

Yes, that’s probably the best way
to go–
the speaker’s frayed wire
or whatever
conducting through
my Quik Trip drink
and lipstick
and I’m ash
and the worship pastor
says a short prayer
and goes on with rehearsal
as the EMTs haul
my still sizzling carcass
out of the sanctuary.

Witnesses say
she went out in a blaze of glory
singing glory to her Maker.
“It’s tragic,” the pianist mused,
“but somehow fitting.”
The combustion was limited
to one monitor stage left
and quickly contained.
Casualties: one alto
who could never remember
when to start singing harmony.

Yes.
Much better
than being murdered
by NPR.

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2 Responses to “Regular Poem: Hot Mic”

  1. Silver Screenings 30 April 2017 at 3:32 PM #

    That pianist sounds like quite a character.

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