ONCE IN A WHILE I AM REMINDED by Leila Chatti

I am not at the center of anything. Seen at a distance

I am hardly seen. Excruciating, how here

i am, how little 

it means. I use my mouth to make sounds

which approximate my innermost thoughts

but often bungle it. I use my eyes when I need to 

be understood. Sometimes I tell the truth

but only when I think I"ll be valued

for being interesting instead of good.

I marvel at what I call my life—ambulances, sparrows,

clouds passing definitively by—amazed that it doesn't 

know it's mine at all, the minor characters

don't look up, the narrative sags, and I 

each moment wondering if this is

when the real story starts.