A Poet

By Jakob Dittmar


I am at the epicentre of my own earthquakes,

when molten lava flies, it ruins my shoes first.

When the wind blows,

I know what it does to my hair.


When I chart the feelings of someone,

I tend to select my own – these I know best.

And when it is time for interviews

I conduct them with myself,

fighting over each apostrophe.


But do not be worried!

I do not trust the guy that much either.

I know me is a poet.