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Shelved

As more and more aunts and uncles meet their Maker,
             I think of Crisis on Infinite Earths, 12-issue crossover saga,

multiversal catastrophe with a high body count despite supers
             who try to prevent the inevitable demise of planets;

deaths of innocent civilians, teammates, and friendly other-Earth
             doppelgangers by travelling to the dawn of creation

where an enormous hand rises from primordial soup and mist
             to birth and cradle star clusters. As unrepentant winter besieges

with a string of cloudy days on our Earth, my migraines and melancholy
             accumulate. I ponder if cousins, nieces, and nephews

will rediscover me in poetry after I’m gone, or will I remain forever
             shelved, gathering dust, forgotten like that Earth 2 Wonder Woman

always as beautiful as Aphrodite, wiser than Athena, swifter than Mercury,
             and stronger than Hercules
—she who ages backwards when

hit by death ray, reverts to statuette, disperses into wind-blown
             clay on Paradise Island as if she’d never existed.

Rita Maria Martinez is a Pushcart-nominated poet who writes about chronic migraine. Rita’s collection—The Jane and Bertha in Me (Kelsay Books)—was a finalist for the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize. Rita’s work appears in The Best American Poetry BlogPloughsharesPleiades, and Tupelo Quarterly. Her poetry is also featured in CLMP’s 2023 Disability Pride Month reading list.

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