I say I am a poet Isabelle Hutchinson I say I am a poet, but I am such a liar. My metaphors are wet kindling that start no fire. I will not lie, I am a fraud. Watch: I cannot conjure a world on a whim. I envy God, and his medium: majestic breath and a curving rib, lost piece from an ivory dome, that cathedral in which the heart beats its wings. That’s creation. I only scribble to the rhythm of a metronome. I’ll always want more than I can ever have. I wait at the bus stop, watch for the words. Time melts in my pocket. The pen and ink are my only certainties. I stand at the brink of creation. A world is birthing. The kindling catches a spark.
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