March 2019
I’ve been writing a daily poem for more than seven years. Many mornings, I find myself writing poems about my difficulty with writing poems and saying something new, one of my many obsessions. My poems are often an intersection of my history and today’s events. I hope to arrive at an unexpected insight.
Blown Away
Sculpture by Penny Hardy
A standing woman’s figure assembled
of gears and sinuous metal scrap,
windswept yet holding firm to form.
Fluid energy vibrates in her curves,
her chin is resolute. If she could say
what she thinks, her words would flow
transparent as river water, clear
as a polished mirror. Each element
of steel and aluminum reflects her
self-made light. Easy? This woman
is no pushover. No glass ceiling could
hold her down. Her steady gaze might
make you wilt. No man dares to bray
from a moving car, Smile, Baby!
Sculpture by Penny Hardy
A standing woman’s figure assembled
of gears and sinuous metal scrap,
windswept yet holding firm to form.
Fluid energy vibrates in her curves,
her chin is resolute. If she could say
what she thinks, her words would flow
transparent as river water, clear
as a polished mirror. Each element
of steel and aluminum reflects her
self-made light. Easy? This woman
is no pushover. No glass ceiling could
hold her down. Her steady gaze might
make you wilt. No man dares to bray
from a moving car, Smile, Baby!
© 2019 Joan Mazza
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