John Close - poems read by John

i distrust my own voice

I distrust my own voice
and am afraid to go on
whistling the old tunes
tapping my foot to a familiar blues.
It is so easy
to be caught laughing or crying
so hard to remain calm,
and pretend you are dead.
Your head has an ache,
your nose is sore, ditto your throat -
all proof that you are alive and feeling bad, and then
you read that Ceasar
really is dead, so
you must be someone else.

written early 1970s

© John Close