- Haylee Caserta
I Can See Through You
I can see through you.
I know–
that you use big words
just because the untrained
can’t define them.
I know–
that you scald your esophagus
with tea and honey–
and choke
on minty-lemon lozenges–
just because to the non-experienced–
that’s the pre-show ritual
the professionals perform on TV.
How serious they must think you are.
But still–
I can see through you.
How you hide in hashtags
and microphone filters
How you wear
your dream college sweatpants
to manifest your acceptance.
How you sit up a little too straight–
how it’s the only language
you seem to speak.
How you don’t audition for any school plays
and post videos
but ban comments.
But you can see through me too.
You can see
the rivers that I sob
for nerves.
The screams into my pillow–
trembling before shows.
You can see
the water I am fishing–
the singing too loud–
in what should be a sea–
just so someone might say
“How strong your voice is!”
You can see
how I can’t enjoy myself
if I’m not the best in the room.
How I lie around all day–
and come to my lessons unprepared.
How I forget my lyrics–
my pencils at home.
How I hit
and scratch
at my face if
heaven forbid
there’s a crack–
a fumble.
You can see
how I avoid work
to avoid mistakes.
How I worry that you envy me.
But I can see through you–
you are tortoise
and I am hare.
I could always see–
even when we were children.
How I got the attention from our teachers.
How I was the one
who was praised by our peers.
I could always see–
that you were the one
who got the flowers.
I could always see
the kisses–
and sticky IHOP dinners.
I could always see–
rows of grandmothers
and cousins–
in the wedding chapel
of our community theater.