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Wonder Woman at 90

has lost a bit of her zoom.
No more rescuing
a sinking battleship full
of confused, drowning sailors,
no more squashing 
evil overlords like so many
roaches in a hog trough.
No, these days she’s happy
pouring water over thirsty tulips,
lounging in bubble baths,
sipping tea every afternoon,
incognito, with Catwoman,
who, it turns out, isn’t the bitch
that liar Batman always
insisted. But don’t be deceived:
she’s still Wonder Woman. She
still keeps her bright eyes open.
Just ask the cruel fool
leering through the chain links
at kindergarten dodge ball
or the blind date shoving
his brogan in the doorjamb.
He tells the doctor
that all he can remember
is the flash of silver hair
before the sudden POW!—
before the dull crunch 
of flimsy bone.

                         —Jo Angela Edwins

Jo Angela Edwins has published poems in various journals and anthologies, including Calyx, Adanna, Whale Road Review, and Rise Up Review. Her chapbook Play was published in 2016. She has received awards from the SC Academy of Authors and Poetry Super Highway and is a Pushcart Prize, Forward Prize, and Bettering American Poetry nominee. She lives in Florence, SC.