Joanna Gilman Hyde

I Rub My Eyes

I Am The Child

no longer fettered by toys

I had no favourites

as I do Now:

My Silver Pen

My Journals

They are My Tools

–

I threw a dolly

with a pin in her stomach

into a closet

and scratched out The Faces

of female dolls

in a print above My Bed–

leaving the Boy Clown alone

He Was My Friend

–

I use the trappings of fashion Now

to parade My Self around

to say I Am Here

This Is Where

I Belong

and I Can See

You

Through Adult Eyes