Everyone’s favorite George dances onto the stage
His suit classy and black, his hair hinting old age
The microphone wobbles when he touches its spine
The title card zooms straight out of the screen
A hush sweeps over a room filled with envy
The Best Supporting Actress remains to be seen
“Good evening,” he says, his face drenched in white light
“It’s time to hand out the first award of the night.”
I clench my fists and bite down on my tongue
I flaunt a peppy look that’s not bitter with defeat
Even though I’ve lost to the critics and actors
Even though my rear end stays forever in this seat
Fifty years and a fortnight my career has gone strong
I’ve played a flying nun, and I’ve burst into song
Since the sixties they’ve flocked to this luminous Field
They’ve watched my films in theaters, on cable, ABC
They said yes to Norma, to Mamma Gump and Aunt May
They’ve said they like me, that they really, really like me
But today’s a new world, obsession over youth
No one cares my husband was shot by John Wilkes Booth
They all turn to the starlet, with the lame pixie haircut,
With the bright eggshell eyes, with the grin of a whore
So she sang and she starved and she died all dramatic
I could sweep up her talent with a mop on the floor
The clips fly by, I see Amy Adams, Helen Hunt
I wouldn’t mind a surprise there, none of them is a runt
Steven gives me a wink, Daniel takes my sweaty hand
And I glare at the skinny bitch who hasn’t eaten for a day
George opens the envelope, tries his best to look surprised
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Oscar goes to Anne Hathaway!”
The camera zooms in, I let out a fake cheer
I try not to sprint to the bar and chug a cold beer
Anne ascends the stairs, and I pray that she trips
She takes hold of the statue, and I hope that it breaks
When she thanks her doofy husband, Ryan Gosling-lite
I dream I make that award mine, whatever it takes
I’d leap up to the stage, pop her three times in the face
I’d stand with my Oscar, proud to have won my third race
But then: “Who I have to thank most is my hero, Sally.”
I sit up in my seat, as Anne turns to me, and says,
“You’re stunning, sublime, you’re the cream of the crop
It’s icons like you who make me strive for my best.”
As the applause overwhelms me, as the people give thanks
From Sandra to Brad, to Cher and Tom Hanks
I nod to Anne, to all the stars and the rest
I take in my surroundings and I try to finally see
Just how privileged I am, and how so very lucky
Because the world still likes me, they really, really like me
—
This poem was written right before the 2013 Academy Awards ceremony, and later published in Strong Verse Magazine.
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