"Good Morning, World!"


The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:18pm

Thousands of Women in Sri Lanka

sew My Husband’s shirts

& fasten countless buttons

for Me to undo

one by one


The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:24pm

My Halo has Me Speak

My Oracle — where I pronounce

I Am The 2nd Coming



The 2nd Coming




The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:50pm

It started in The Shower

last fall

against the white

bathroom stall

& then I started seeing

It against the white

dishwasher in My Kitchen

I even carried It

into Sobey’s

one night while Hunter

waited in the car

I saw It again last night

& watched It circle My Head

in The Mirror of My All


The Hawk Kitchen 3:20pm

a puddle of smouldering rust

resides in the base

of My Lamp’s Crystal Ball

— did I tell You I cleaned It?

two days ago I held the stem of The Lamp sideways

under a running tap

and lathered the dusty cut glass

with a toothbrush

and rinsed It and so soaked It

enough to have the fake brass flanges leak

whereby My New Crystal Ball fogged up

at the top when righted

water collected on the bottom

with no apparent outlet

and sits there turning brown

like an accidental terrarium


The Hawk Kitchen 9:38am

I have My Kitchen Witch —

It’s a hand-carved, hand-painted Blue Jay

fat, sitting by My Sink Window

looking out

watching over Me

while I make

egg plant parmesan


The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:39pm

I’m seeing The Universe again

this time on the behind

of My Navy Blue Long Johns

static-y with cat hair

globules of fuzz, lint

& God knows what all


The Hawk Kitchen 2:10pm

I stood in The Portal

of My House

waving good-bye

to My Husband after

lunch —

I stood

as A Woman

not just of The House

but of The World


The Hawk Kitchen 8:18am

I have A Crystal Ball

stationed in My Kitchen

It tells My Fortune

while I steep the coffee

It trims The Lamp

I retrieved from Barrington

when The Sun

hits Its Prisms

It Lights My Morning

in The Dawning

of My Extended Life


The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:00pm

I have a crowded secret

in My Heart:

something I threw out

in My fire-burning

desire for ridding

The World of that

deemed garbage by Me

something as simple

as a moulded glass dish

with matching lid

— too small to be bothered with —

held momentarily

in My Frantic Hand

I let it go

into the 39th trash bag



The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:55pm

Today I built a mountain

of the discards of the rich

stacked on top

of the refuse

from The Department of Health and Wellness

piled in doorways

and corridor

of My Husband’s old office

and residence

The Heap grew literally

from floor to ceiling

and I achieved

My Freedom

from dead wives

and grown children

and in a laundry room attic

I said I would never clean out

I found, like a miracle

a brass lampshade knob

to secure

the naked bulb of a fancy floor lamp

with its preserved shade

properly fit


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