I have on My Play Dress:
My hand-embroidered calf-length Mexican House Dress
It’s White
with Black Campeche Stitching
It’s airy around My Lap
when I sit in My Red Deck Chair
one knee up
I did have A Favourite Toy
and I still have Her:
a lopsided little bear
named “Bear Bear”
Who never spoke
She wore a doll’s bathrobe
and sat languidly
in the vicinity
of My Brother’s tough hefty “Bunny”
Who did speak
using a husky guttural voice
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
8:06am
I see a backwards rainbow
circling around the sun
My Adulthood is on a collision course
with My Childhood yet undone
If I sit on The Portico
I can’t see My Laundry Line
but I can see a neighbour’s
with The Ocean in behind
the length of line is parallel
The Hanging Fabrics Flicker
They Catch My Eye
like a fire
as Wind Blows Through Them Quicker
I am Mrs Dr W Hunter Blair
I sit on My Deck
& write poetry
I dress for The Weather
& whatever else is going on
I listen to The Sheets & Towels
fluttering on the line
I listen to The Birds
The Waves
& whatever else is going on
I listen
I write
for Joanna Gilman Hyde
I am dressed for The Sun
in Floppy Sun Hat
& Long Mexican House Dress
with Sunscreen on My Arms
45 years or more
away from when My Mother
dressed Me
in My Sun Pants & nothing else
& sent Me outside
away from Harm
on Our Sunny Nova Scotia Island
Here I sit in My Black Slip
of a Nightgown
waiting for The World to End
waiting for All Our Global Assets
to fall apart
to be rearranged
to be supported
by All The Silver & Gold
We can possibly carry
Joanna Gilman Hyde 