Trapped

Trapped

I'm trapped at this live mic
Fenced in by poetry
Stifled by bouncing
Egos, panicked by the
Feeling in the air;
We're all listening so
Closely but there's
Not much to hear.
I am so, so tired and
Cranky. I have only just
Discovered what I need:
To go home to your
Place, crawl under your
Sheets and your coverlet,
And wait in silence, sleeping quietly,
Until you find me, like a long dark
Present you may or may not want.