January 2024
Joan Mazza
Joan.Mazza@Gmail.com
Bio Note: I’m still in isolation mode, which appears to agree with me. I’ve used this great pause to write more and to read books again, aiming for 100 read books a year. My poetry has appeared in Prairie Schooner, The Comstock Review, and The Nation. I live in rural central Virginia in the woods, surrounded by quiet and wildlife.

Shouting Their Bad Advice
1. Don’t let boys kiss you. Kiss grandpa. Boys don’t like smart girls. Be quiet. Become a teacher. Don’t go to college. Don’t have sex outside of marriage. Get married, get married. You have to suffer to look beautiful. Keep your nails polished. Self-praise stinks. Never have kids. Have an affair with your boss. Don’t remarry. Attachment is the source of all suffering. Don’t attach to people, places, things, or pets. Never trust a man. Never go anywhere alone at night. Never let anyone see you without makeup. Don’t write about me in your journal. Cash in all your investments before Y2K. Don’t take a vacation until you pay off your mortgage. Never eat protein and carbs together. Eat fruit by itself. Your nail polish is a pollutant. Open files or links from only those you know. If you want a man in your life, get rid of your dogs. Everything will be fine after you’re married. Never admit anything. Don’t apologize or explain. Don’t admit to what you don’t know. Buy all new furniture every time you move. Three moves equal a fire. Never let them see you sweat. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Never trust a homo. Never stand when you can sit. Never sit when you can lie down. It’s impossible for a woman to have a friendship with a man. Don’t tell a man about your dreams and nightmares. Men are interested in only one thing. Women are interested in only one thing. (It’s not the same thing.) Don’t shake your head or people will think you’re crazy. Buy gold. Buy diamonds. Get a gun. Be happy. 2. She tells me again, although I’ve explained myself and my writing process several times. She says, You should let it go. Stop writing about your mother, sister. Don’t write more about your father, ex, your shrink, or memories of childhood wounds. Don’t write about your past at all. Forget it. I know you know it isn’t good for you to dwell on what hurt you. Don’t stay there. Move on. Think about your future and what you need to do. How can you endure talking about your pain and broken leg, answering questions? I never felt better when I wrote about loss. Instead, you should listen to upbeat music, choose an anthem for your healing, get ready to dance. Your self-talk stinks. You’re abusing yourself. Stop being a victim, stop listing those who have abused you. Let it go. Your FaceBook posts aren’t uplifting. She knows what I’m thinking, hears my self-talk? This time, I say nothing. She must believe she’s helping from afar, thinks she knows what I need. I take her advice and let her go.
©2024 Joan Mazza
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL