Flattered, Nonetheless

If nothing else, poets
Are opportunistic
Noticers of ideas,

Faiths, and revolutions.
Only a few poets
Live among the chosen

Who influence those things,
Advancing an idea,
Reinvigorating

A faith, redirecting
Wayward revolution.
But poets stay eager

To get on board with new
Gods, movements, sciences.
Why is this? Yes, the words.

A devout, a zealous,
A popularizing
Poet won’t admit it

Often, but most often
It’s some potent language—
Not only deity,

Theorem, or just cause
As such—that will draw verse
As blue draws bowerbirds.

We could be wrong, but words
Know poets better than
Any poets know us.