nervous with her one poem,
the single
sheet of paper
in her hand, she steps
into the light,
to the microphone
and says her name.
there is no crowd,
there are couples,
there a few singles drinking
tea. other poets
who have read their
epic poems
about aliens and dragons.
there is a drunk in the corner
half asleep, his head
resting on rimbaud.
she clears her throat
and reads.
it's about her mother,
it's about love.
it's about
death and dying.
when she's done,
she looks out
to the one woman clapping.
her daughter
in the back, with tears
in her eyes, smiling
from the shadows.
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