At the Poetry Conference
Melancholy’s grape: today I’ve bitten it.
I’m sad because you live so far away.
I need to write a poem but I’ve written it
Already: 1989, LA.
Here we are again and I am crying.
Nothing has changed except that we are old.
We will be far apart when we are dying.
One will go. The other will be told
By phone or email and it will be over.
The survivor will sit down and weep
And write a poem mourning the ex-lover
And have a drink or two and go to sleep.
That will be that. You see I’m alternating
Two kind of rhyme, the way you recommend.
I trust you’ll give these lines a Grade A rating
And that, of course, will cheer me up no end.
from Family Values (Faber, 2011), © Wendy Cope 2011, used by permission of the author and the publisher