by Joan Mazza
for those still suffering
Along the streets of New York, Long
Island,
and Staten Island, mounds of debris at the curb
after Hurricane Sandy. Couches and bedding,
pillows and papers, broken dinnerware.
Soggy books already
molding.
Boats on lawns,
cars deluged. Homes washed away or burned.
Like after Andrew in Miami—
equal to thirty years worth of
garbage,
truck after truck in a caravan to the landfill.
Years of clothing gone, some new, coats
knitted sweaters, handmade quilts,
towels,
embroidered tablecloths. Trashed.
Some things can’t be replaced by insurance:
the stuffed dog I’ve had since I was
three,
my notebooks with first drafts of poetry.
family portraits on the wall, these pie tins
handled by my mother, ladle my grandmother
brought back from
Italy. Beloved
junk.
Joan Mazza has worked as a psychotherapist, writing coach, certified sex therapist, and medical microbiologist, has appeared on radio and TV as a dream specialist. She is the author of six books, including Dreaming Your Real Self (Perigee/Putnam). Her work has appeared in Kestrel, Stone’s Throw, Rattle, Writer's Digest, Playgirl, and Writer's Journal. She now writes poetry and does fabric art in rural central Virginia.
