Chained To the Podium At the Read-Around

If you move around, or turn your head to the side, your words float into a stream of swift water to be swallowed up by fish, under the chair of the person whispering in your ear, or into air so thin they are snatched by birds flying into the next room. If you're chained to a podium by a stationary mike, you must lean forward, place your mouth near the mike, and blab straight ahead. Give me a microphone I can hold in my hand, and move, as my body dictates. In this, I am my mother’s daughter. If you tied my hands behind my back, I could not speak a word.