Mimeomia*I’ve fallen into a stereotype, typecastas the little old lady, gray haired, lookingat her feet, wearing clunky sneakersand mom jeans, pigeonholed into a small boxon a shelf with broken paperclips, dullpencils, and exhausted rubber bands.The young ignore adages that link agewith wisdom, tune out ripened warningsseasoned with experience. Only one clerkat the grocery asks, HowContinue reading “3 poems by Joan Mazza”
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Calendar Cubes. a poem by Joan Mazza
Calendar Cubes We sat together, two numbers facing out, changed each day on that doctor’s desk for years. Remove us from our slanted seat, note we were one of many freebies by a company who manufactures Norpramin® so doctors might write more prescriptions. We, like our siblings, remained on desks and bookshelves, listened to distraughtContinue reading “Calendar Cubes. a poem by Joan Mazza”
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