You went to the reading

Eager to hear the poet’s voice,

Believing the feeling

Would be there as well

As in the words themselves.

How disappointing it was.

Reading as if half asleep himself,

As if she couldn’t care less.

Maybe anxious, maybe afraid

To let the feelings show too

Openly. But why write poems

If not because grief or joy

Has seized you? Why read

Them if you don’t want

To make us weep or shout aloud?

Think of the news you’re bringing:

The beloved is still alive!

Message that demands singing.