A slight shiver in my chest.
A little wetness
in my glassy eye.
More than is unusual but
not excessive on my face.
A flutter in the stomach
An indecisive kind of smile.
A stutter in the moment
when trying to chose attire.
A double check in the mirror
did that spot decline to die?
Just another few long minutes
of waiting, adjusting, thinking.
Did I remember the words?
The ones I’d imagined I would say.
What will be the first thing
you do when I am spied?
Adjusting my stance with no
leg to stand on, in my defence.
A patch of unsightliness
And a chattering of birdsong
in my minds ear.
A salty spray adorning
unkempt hair and beard.
A smell, a little acrid
A taste of brimming fear.
Please have a little sympathy
for my nervousness my dear.
A cordite moment looms
when we meet,
so very soon.
Why would you think
before the fight
a pirate wouldn’t have
some nervous thoughts,
before he does his job
and steals your worldly goods,
and disembowels
your living corpse.
But didn’t he do well
to fight his glass eyed tears?
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-surely-jest/
