we circle silently about the wreck

Sometime around 4pm, I asked Sarah what time we should try to get to the Georgia Museum of Art for Adrienne Rich’s reading. She said that one of her Professors suggested 30 to 45 minutes early, as the “auditorium” where she is reading is small. When we arrived at 7pm, thirty minutes early, all of the seats had already been filled and people were starting to line the walls. Luckily, we thought, we had gotten a quick parking spot, as we were able to get a standing room spot against the left wall. Five minutes went by, and then ten, and the back of the auditorium was filling more and more. I wasn't even able to move my arms. One woman squeezed in and told her friend, “the entire lobby is packed with people who can’t get in.”

Of course everyone was talking back and forth. This is insane. Why would they host the reading here. Why would they put one of our most cherished poets in an auditorium that only seats 150 people?

Then, the Humanities Department head, a woman who had sauntered in a few minutes before the reading was to take place and took her reserved front seat, got up onto the tiny stage and made an announcement. “If there are any students in the audience who would like to give up their seats, who might not really want to be here, please raise your hand. You can leave. Wouldn’t you like a nice dinner at home tonight? We could use the room for people who can’t get a seat.” Of course no one raised their hand. And when she stepped off the stage people started to clap. Everyone was just looking around in disbelief.

About two minutes later she got back up on the stage and said, “I’m sorry, but the fire marshal won’t allow anyone in this auditorium that doesn’t have a seat. So everyone that is standing or is in the back will have to leave.”

I was absolutely stunned.

As I was walking out slowly with the other people who didn’t get in (probably around 400 people or so between the standing room and the filled lobby), I saw her, Adrienne Rich, with a little walker looking confused. She said to her handler, “What’s going on?” All he could say to her was, “There’s not enough room for them so they have to leave.”

I said to Sarah, “at least I saw her.”

And this terrible sadness came over me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I also felt enormously angry, a sentiment, it seemed, shared by everyone who was lingering around in the lobby, unwilling to go home, as if someone might say, "we changed our mind, come back in."

In truth, no matter how early anyone got there, there were only 150 seats and at least 400 people who were not able to get in. I am still in disbelief over this, still angry, especially having worked for the Wick Poetry Center (where this would have never happened) where we labored extensively to make sure that everyone that wanted it had access to the creative arts.

Shame on the UGA creative writing department for thinking that they could host the reading in that tiny room. Shame on them for not moving it next door where there are lecture halls that hold 500 people (it’s not like she had a set, or music equipment, or smoke machines to move.) Shame on the head of the Humanities Department for asking students, students who pay fees for lecture series, students who wanted to see a true hero of contemporary poetry, to leave. Shame on the them for turning people away (students, community members, writers) who came to support the creative arts. Shame on them for making it something exclusive, something Adrienne Rich herself has fought her whole writing life against.