When watching old horror movies,
I scream at the TV as if my voice
Can travel time and space to reach
The actors’ ears. “No! Don’t open
The door; the wolf-man is inside!”
But, of course, even if my voice
Could reach them, it wouldn’t change
Anything. They’re merely acting
Out a script already written–fate
Signed, sealed and delivered
Within their fantasy world.
I genuinely care about them,
These pretend people–an
Awkward by-product of sincerity.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen