the cost of poetry

when she drank,

she liked

to read poetry, her own,

and others,

but never mine.

she was selfish that way.

but she'd

stand up

in a crowded room,

take the floor

and would perform

as if Dylan Thomas

on a rage,

quoting word for word,

what she

had memorized.

there was applause

of course,

and more drinks bought.

sometimes

she wouldn't come home

that night.

poetry has its cost.