Pat D’Amico


Space with Grace

Once, on a plane, we relaxed and we dined
As we sat in an armchair that really reclined.
Call me a crank, but I have to impugn
The petite bag of nuts tossed inside my cocoon.

Tiny Tantrums

In the grocery store, there’s some stress
That the managers ought to address:
It’s the thin plastic bags for the veggies
That give me emotional wedgies.
When I cannot pull them apart,
I’ll admit that I sometimes lose heart
And hurl them with snit-induced power
On the squash when it’s having a shower,
Then exit the store in a huff
Without buying a bit of the stuff.

Pat D’Amico is a former school teacher who lives in Kirkland, Washington. Her verses have appeared in The Wall Street Journal, The Saturday Evening Post, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Light, and Lighten Up Online. She contributes regularly to Northwest Prime Time, a newspaper for readers over fifty in the Seattle, Tacoma area.