I have begun to explore some genealogy and have had my DNA tested. Now that I have dozens of questions to ask my ancestors, only one of them survives. I guess I’ll be writing more creative non-fiction. By reading and writing poetry, I come to terms with my obsessions. www.JoanMazza.com
What did you do when Fascism came to America?
While the man was promising to sue journalists,
while he was lying about his money and business
acumen, while he encouraged violence at his rallies,
I punched out little fishes and flowers in cardstock,
glued them to contrasting cardstock, added glitter,
and words like Peace in sparkly script. I chopped
vegetables for summer minestrone, shaped bread
dough into knots for rolls. While my stomach
churned and twisted into knots, while people
protested and shouted, I read Spirals in Time,
learned of the imaginary museum of all possible
shells, wished for a calcified cave I could move into.
While journalists nodded their heads to blatant lies,
ethnic slurs, absurd claims, and vulgarities, I ordered
dies of umbrellas, special glue, embossing folders
to make card fronts look like fences, rain, or swirls
of colors. I slept ten hours a day when I could
sleep. I shared my anxiety with those who agreed
with me. I worried and twisted my fingers into knots.
I sent get well cards to friends diagnosed with cancer,
hand-wrote notes filled with platitudes. I sent money
every month to Planned Parenthood and Doctors
Without Borders. I lost sleep worrying. Does that count?
What did you do before it was too late to stop that man?
©2016 Joan Mazza
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