I am speaking to an audience
Of walls and glazing eyes,
Their gazes blank as paper—
But I guess that's no surprise;
My voice is less than audible,
All wavering and cold,
And I remain oblivious
To the facts I must have told;
No flapping hand waves in the air,
No comments or confusion,
The forms and figures watching me
Might as well be illusions;
A smiling face would do me good
As I stand here on this stage,
Yet slate-clean keeps on staring back
And I move to another page;
Listen here and emphasize there,
The watching eyes are plastic-blank,
Then draw and conclude with finality
With no applause to thank;
My shaky breath and hazy eyes
Narrow and focus to see
My audience—composed of dolls—
During practice of my speech-to-be.