The Spy, The Storm, & The Slam I Didn't Perform
- Sheridan Guerrette
- Jun 18, 2025
- 7 min read
Updated: May 9
I almost read a poem. I definitely spun like a tornado. My dad made the news. And no, I’m not a spy (but thanks for asking).
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Previously on What Sheridan Said...
Our modern heroine, Sheridan Guerrette confronts the nagging whisper of "not good enough" while diving headfirst into her lifelong love affair with poetry: from kid-scribbled anonymous publications lost in time, to Tumblr posts blooming into a stranger's tattoo tribute, now she is gearing up for a bold release of her collection, structured in chapters of Dark, Breakup, Life, and Love—multi-layered rhythms, prose stabs, and experimental forms that crack open personal truths without apology. She drops a poem snippet amid open-mic terrors and PR plots, then shifts to a plunging-neckline Pride night out in D.C.'s LGBT+ bars, where safety sparks fury over society's blind eye to abusers—friends, families, and enablers who shrug off unforgivable sins. The spotlight dims on this blend of vulnerability and venom, begging the question: what sins won't she forgive?
I was supposed to perform at a poetry slam this week. I had the piece. I had the dress. I had the nerve—until I didn’t. I was sitting in the second row, staring at the sign-up sheet like it had teeth. And then I chickened out.
But here’s why I’m glad I did.
The night opened with a local legend who’s been hosting these slams longer than some of us have been out of high school. He said something like, “Read the room,” and I did. What followed was one of the most profound nights of poetry I’ve ever witnessed.
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