Swallowing a Hair: An Author Event Horror Story (in verse)

In honor of National Poetry Month, here is a story in verse form from my first ever author event. This moment makes me cringe a little bit every time I think of it. I can only hope this poem does the same for you.


You know that feeling
when you sense a strand of hair
stuck to your tongue,
a foreign object that makes you want to gag
and spit
like a cat with a hairball
and you can't focus on ANYTHING
besides pulling it off
no matter how many
delicate
desperate
pinches
of your thumb and forefinger
it takes?

It was exactly that.

Except

I was powerless in that moment,
standing with my book in my hands,
smiling back at the small crowd of faces,
some familiar,
some new,
all eager to hear
what I had to say,
all eager to hear me
read my book
publicly
for the first time
EVER.

Perhaps I could have excused myself,
turned around,
pinched at the surface of my tongue,
and it would have been over
and forgotten
in a matter of seconds.

But

I didn't want that image in the minds
of my audience.

It took every bit of fortitude I possessed
but I forged ahead,
pretending that
the invisible, coiled intruder didn't exist
until
at a moment I cannot pinpoint,
it was gone,
washed down my throat
with a trace
of swallowed saliva.