Poets Lie
she: they say poets lie.
her: or maybe they just rearrange the truth.
she: isn’t that the same thing?
her: no—lying hides. poetry reveals in disguise.
she: but what if the disguise becomes the truth?
her: then the truth was never whole to begin with.
she: or maybe the poet just wanted to be believed.
her: don’t we all?
she: between the lines—there’s always a slant.
her: between the lines—that’s where the ache lives.
she: the lie is only dangerous if you call it truth.
her: and the truth is only safe if you call it art.
she: so do poets lie?
her: maybe they do. maybe they don’t.
she: maybe the real lie is believing words can hold us still.
her: maybe the real truth is—they’re the only things that ever could.
