The Poetry Reading

Some phrases
made us laugh and
the laughter seemed
uncomfortable
because, after all,
it was poetry.
Some of the words
were rooted in pain,
like a poem about
spontaneous abortion.
As blood and urine
were uttered, the
gray-haired woman
to my left frowned
and turned to
her gray-haired friend
wrinkling her nose.
Maybe everyone
does not love the ideas
if they are born of real life
as I do.
Then
there was a lull
in the reading and
my mind drifted away.
I looked down
at the diamond he gave me,
luminous
in the gallery spotlight
and thought about,
later,
making love with him.