I like to be playful with the lyrical ‘I’. When poets write ‘I’, they’re not necessarily speaking about themselves. Sometimes people, myself included, forget.
Here’s a wee poem I wrote today about liars.
Liars I find it hard to lie, a storyteller, I! And still, there’s got to be truth, even in the words I make up, dream, hope, clandestinely weave into a piece. You ask me to lie. You must be joking! Just this once. No big deal. We’ll quickly forget, you say. Go ahead. This is whiter than white, innocent as a pinkie promise. It rots me to the core, this little lie. Nobody died. Nothing happened, in the grand scheme of things. No money lost. An inconvenience, solved. The easiest way for all involved. Just tell a lie, you say. And I wonder… Do you do this a lot? How can I trust you now?