I listened to her recite at the Southwest Library in Durham.
She's a member of the Washington Street
Writers Group.
Told us how she used to
keep her poems in a suitcase
under the bed.
Then, she left her husband,
who didn't understand why she
wrote poetry.
Eventually,
she had one published, and
his only response was,
"Well, you have really arrived, haven't you?
But why do you always write about
unhappy things?"
Beverly is a gardner. That man made her feel like
she was being "choked by honeysuckle. that
false plant that you don't
want to have in your house."
She's glad she weeded him.
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