"Poem for Evan" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Poem for Evan"

by Christopher Fox Graham

this microphone was crafted for one purpose:

to take sound and amplify it across A ROOM

its brothers exist in a thousand places:

in the bedroom of a high school guitarist

at a candidate’s podium

in an Elks Lodge Bingo Hall

but this microphone

this microphone 
stands at a poetry slam

give    it    purpose

fill this room with your art

this stage

is devoid of props or sets

it needs nothing else but you

this stage merely holds your weight

make it creek and bend 
under the heaviness of words

make these wood beams
wish they were

          a sinner’s coffin,

or a church’s rafters 

or a hangman’s gallows        

something easier to bear

than the soapbox 

of poets

this audience

sits on the edge of its seat

voices silent

waiting for your three minutes to fill their ears

word by word

they did not come to hear pickup lines
and internet jokes

they want to feel something

do    not
waste
their    time

in the shadows of this stage,

there is a man with a gun
aimed at your temple
and when your three minutes end

he will turn your brain 

into art on this wall

you cannot escape his bullet 

so do not try

instead
speak

make your words count

give them weight and substance

make us feel something

turn these eyes into faucets
overflow the kitchen sink of our chests
’til this room fills
and spills out into the street

sink this city like Atlantis

or make us laugh so hard
our bellies and faces ache tomorrow

as we recount each punchline verbatim

but    do    not
waste
our    time

if there’s a boy or girl in the back of the room
you want to kiss
or fuck 

or marry
get off the stage

and say it face-to-face

because when you’re here

YOU
belong to
US

and if your words don’t seduce

every boy and girl in this room

you’re wasting your time

this stage is 

8:12 a.m. Hiroshima
12:27 p.m. Dealey Plaza
8:43 a.m. 99th floor North Tower

you have three minutes
until the world changes forever

this microphone
will not hate you
it will not love you
and it will not judge you

this stage does not careif you are a good person

if you are rich or poor

young or old,

gay, straight, or in between

we only care about your life story

edited to the best three minutes you can speak

how did you live?
what did you learn?
what will you teach?

that man is not moving
the clock is ticking
the laser sight is beginning to burn

what will you say?
why should we care?
why do you matter? 

remind us everyone here
has a gun
pointed at our skulls
and one day that round
will fire

make us believe these moments we spend here with you

are the best three minutes of our lives

your heart is a grenade
pull the pin and explode
leave word shrapnel buried in our skin
so in weeks and years hence
when your name is whispered

we few, 

we happy few 

who witnessed your detonation

will point to the scar

reread the line, 

and say 

“NOW
THAT
IS
POETRY”

when you slam a poem
any poem

leave your blood in this microphone

leave your heart on this stage

don’t care about the scores

don’t care about the time

don’t hold back

never apologize

believe every word 
is an atom bomb

these are your last words

this is your epitaph

this is what will be scrawled 
on your tombstone

long after we 
are all dead and buried

prove you had

at least one

good     reason     to

BANG!

my time is up

                this microphone is yours

                                                now,
                                turn this stage
                                to splinters

Christopher Fox Graham © October 2014