The Abandonment of Writing
There is no money in it. I am told in the office of my advisor,
In a small basement room hidden under books,
Smelling of hazelnut coffee, stale cigarettes.
It has been weeks since I indulged in either
Sneaking a warm sip from my mother’s cup,
A wonderful drag from my sister’s Marlboro.
The growth in my abdomen has come with sacrifice
And now yet another.
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