I went to an open mic night, and read a poem, which of course is the cliche treatment for anyone with aversion to speaking in public. But what the hell. Heart thumped and everything, but I remembered every word, kept my posture straight--probably could have smiled more, but got compliments and applause afterwards.
I was the only white person there. Twenty black women testified in crisp rhythm about the power of Jesus with their personal creations, punctuated by audience Amens. Also, a dwarf.
My selection, however, was Victorian-era sprung rhythm.