The Poet Lies

a daily ritual


The poet lies 
but does not lie down
until all the players are paid their due.
At the garbage can
where False meets True
they circle round 
the nightly rim
each vying to throw the other in.

I am a poet!
You are a fraud.
You lie!
You pretend.
Can’t you see me?
I see only my own reflection.
You’re so selfish!
That too.

I’m tired today.
Tired of yourself?
Tired of you.
Tired of contradiction?
I am not the one who’s confused.
Are you tired of bending down to pray?
But I’m right!

Larry Marshall