Should poetry be free?

Wherein I, despairing, complain

Should poetry be free? 

Should fur coats be free?
Shall we forget the young beasts 
That were slit with an industrial knife
So that I’d have an allergy attack from the 
Hound next to me in the elevator 
As I ride up to my floor? 
She wears it proud. 
My eyes burn. 
Did the animal die in vain?