March madness

A Poem By Christa // 4/7/2008

My overworked brain chants silently
So loudly I wonder if the crowd can hear me
The expert panel is not amused
By my internal perfidy
I’m the bulls-eye and they the darts
With questions they proceed to stick me
Stung so long I start to feel numb
One question, in particular,
Drones on and on
So long I start to daydream
Why does this take so long?
Silence booms, I wake with a start
Repeat the question please?
And then my lips are somehow answering

My hand clicks the pencil
I try to gauge the room
Is my answer correct? Of course not
Their gazes narrow in and zoom
I am a bug on a microscope plate
To be analyzed and dissected
I answer a follow-up question
All the while hoping
For some clue on what they wanted
I try to take the rebound
Not sure if my knowledge shows
Shy I let some questions scuttle by
As I affect an expert tone
Finally, a break in the game,
Softball question thrown
I’m sorry, that must be the answer
That I forgot to bring from home

Exhaustion sets in, answers plumbed,
My brain is numb and adrenaline gone,
The old ones exchange a knowing glance
This has been three hours long
How long did they think I’d last?
I’m too tired to think
Is it a pass or fail?
From the conclave I hear I’ve done well
The game almost over, the crowd quiets down
Right before the final buzzer cries
I get a smile and three nods
I am done: Hooray! Good job! Good-bye!
A toast is called for, the championship mine
But I:
I don’t think I’ll celebrate today
My limbs are too tired to hold me


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