A Reading

by Wendy Cope

Poor fools, we came here of our own accord,
And some of us have paid to hear this jerk.
Everybody in this room is bored.

The silent cry goes up, “How long, O Lord?”
But nobody will scream or go berserk.
He won’t be interrupted or ignored,

Or hit by eggs, or savaged by a horde
Of desperate people maddened by his work.
Everybody in this room is bored,

Except the poet. We are his reward,
Pretending to indulge his every quirk.
He won’t be interrupted or ignored.

At last it’s over. How we all applaud!
The poet thanks us with a modest smirk.
Everybody in the room was bored.
He wasn’t interrupted or ignored.