Who I Am

When he tells me my poetry isn't all there is to me, as if it were so little a thing, magnifying the parts he values, my caring, my understanding, my nurturing, as if this would be a consolation to me; when he tells me I am more than that, as if telling me a piece of better, warmer news; when he tells me poetry is a hobby; when he says it so comfortably, from within himself, so comfortable in himself and with what he is saying, I really have to wonder how he does it; how does he manage to stand there so easily and tell me who I am, so easily telling me who I am, as if
he knew
anything.