in "Being Boring", a poem in If I Don't Know, a collection published in 2001, seven years after her discovery of domestic happiness, "Well, what are they for,/If you don't need to find a new lover?/You drink and you listen and you drink a bit more/And you take the next day to recover."
The misery was real enough, but it did bear wonderful fruit.
from The Independent: Behold, a happy poet
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