Poetry By John Wojtowicz

Joseph Gage CC




At the Trauma Dump

Oh yes, we smoke here
and if your childhood trauma 
and abandonment issues
are already co-mingled 
don’t worry about separating them.

Some wear gloves while 
unloading but most just dig right in. 

Don’t forget that emotional abuse 
is recyclable. Break-ups 
are restricted to 4 per year, 
per household. 

Trust issues, rejection, 
neglect, and harassment 
all go in the compactor. No dead animals. 

Persons under the influence 
of alcohol or controlled substances
will be asked to share.

PTSD in Bin #1
Secondary Trauma in Bin #2

No scavenging, 
rummaging, or removal. 

Accidents and illnesses
should be placed carefully 
in the pole barn. Religious 
trauma is only accepted 
on the 2nd Sunday of the month. 

Guilt should be relieved
in the marked receptacles;
shame unburdened
in one of the salvage drums.

We ask that you compost 
all intergenerational trauma. 

When the socio-political heap 
piles up, it’ll be loaded
into the chipper. Mulch 
is first come, first served.

Some folks dump and dash. Most 
are in no rush to go home. 

We bum cigarettes 
and discuss attachment-styles 
like horoscopes.

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John Wojtowicz grew up working on his family’s azalea and rhododendron nursery and still lives in the backwoods of South Jersey.  Publications include: Rattle, New Ohio Review, Waxing & Waning, Gigantic Sequins, and Sonora Review. His chapbook, No Lightsabers in the Kitchen, was selected as a winner of the 2025 Poetry Box Chapbook contest. When not writing poetry, he enjoys monitoring bluebird boxes, flipping horseshoe crabs, and rolling around in the yard. Find out more at: www.johnwojtowicz.com
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