*I am a Poet

I am a poet. 
Of course I speak my truth.
Of course I will tell you
the way I came out ass first,
cord wrapped around my neck, 
lump on my throat to testify
nothing ever is ever easy.

I am a poet.
Of course I will read 
between every line. But I’ll read
the sentences slowly and even your face,
wrinkled and raging because you are
nothing but a molding peach of a man 
who deserves to be read out loud,
and how else can I get a word in edgewise
to tell you what I really think? 

I am a poet.
Of course I will listen
to whatever speaks around me
until I decide what caused me to hear you,
what reached in to stroke 
my remoteness and feeling so alone.

I am a poet.
Of course I will dive head first into darkness
only to emerge in the sun because how else 
can I learn who it is that I am 
and what I believe on the other side?

I am a poet.
Of course I will sense what’s wrong
because you didn’t see through my eyes 
(the ones he called “pensive” in a handwritten note)
the man with the girls on his lap,
saying she had a “bony butt,”
and a record playing backwards
that said nothing about Satan
I could ever hear. 

I am a poet.
Of course I will watch
like a sharp-shinned hawk 
the everything I see
and write it down in a notebook
because Harriet the Spy was my hero,
and no one should have stolen her diary. 

I am a poet. 
Of course I will cry
when I hear the highest notes hit
or the wails of my unsoothable baby
and this is not a mood disorder, thank you –
it’s hormones and men amok. 

I am a poet. 
Of course I will remember
what it is you said when you 
actually said something important 
or something that made sense to me.
Context is king, and keywords 
were always my friends. 

I am a poet.
Of course I will tell you
which wounds hurt the most
and which will hardly bother me
because this life is too short
to bother with petty and you
are wasting my time. 

I am a poet.
Of course I will gather 
nuts and berries around me,
pick up shiny things and shells,
put them in front of me
to remind me of what is beautiful. 

I am a poet. 
Of course I will think everything’s plural
and nothing is black and white,
or even a shade of grey - more 
like a spectrum not even 
a color wheel captures.

I am a poet.
Of course I have tattoos
and earrings and beads and even audacious 
wraps, because nothing is rarer 
than the thrill of artists unhinged
sharing their version of beauty. 

I am a poet.
Of course I will question
just about everything, starting 
with life and death, then starting
all over again. Did you think 
I’d just take your word? 

I am a poet.
Of course I will sing 
and dance awkwardly in my living room
and sometimes in the grocery store, too,
because a journey without joy 
is no journey at all, and innocent 
laughter can be so very rare. 

I am a poet. 
Of course I will learn
the hard way sometimes, 
and other times on the first try,
meandering through muck
and coming out clean,
bathed in the showers of springtime. 

I am a poet.
Of course I will live in a world of my own,
envisioning something better
than you could ever build alone.
Because I am a poet, forged of iron and light,
and I was made to last.

Copyright 2024, Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, all rights reserved 

*Dedicated to all the creatives out there. Thank you to my poetic friends on Threads for inspiring this poem with their own statements of truth. Thank you @aplantedpoet for reminding me I am iron and light. #CreativesUnite