TONIGHT
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:41pm
My Husband has given up
on trying to talk any sense
into Me.
He claims He no longer has any opinion
on what psychiatric diagnosis
might be responsible for My Skewered Reality.
He claims He will never speak again
of His Theory as to why I latched on
to a Little Scottish Doctor four days after
My Mother Died:
His Fifteen-year-old Theory that I had a symbiotic relationship
with My Mother, transferred onto The Little Man.
That My Husband may never discuss this subject again
should be a relief to Me
yet I find My Self in the foulest of moods.
Maybe I am getting
a menopausal period.
Joanna Gilman Hyde 