The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:25pm
I have re-visited
My Dark Doorway
to remember Those same wavy
strings of Cat Hair
— and dust —
now that The Snow Particles
are gone
What’s left
but Dark Matter
composing
the majority of material
making up The Scape
of Last Night’s Stars?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:50pm
I’m still That Teenager
reliable
brawny
baby-sitter
paper-girl
proper student
bound to be a helicopter pilot
artist-on-the-side
My Weakness was My Eyesight
but I kept My Sights set on Nova Scotia
where I have ended up
making grilled cheese sandwiches
served with a pickle
for My Second Husband
when He’s home
from The Office
I snagged
along with
The Man
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:41pm
There’s a Star Scape
on The Window of My Black Front Door
back-lit by The Portico Light
— I know It’s snow, really —
but on close inspection
I see Little Threads
of maybe cat hair
individually straight
or wavy
String
Theory
January 19th, The Hawk East Kitchen Window
Have I written of The Wind
around here?
Now as I compose
one knee up to hold My Book —
The Wind is The Breath
of My Experience
of The Choppy Seas
The Vibration of The Trees
— to write It
is to feel It —
welling up in Me
as I stand on one leg
— My Left —
to write
& on Both
to read what I have breathed
The Hawk West Desk Window 1:20pm
What orchestrates The Music
of The Universe?
What perpetuates The Orbital Spin
of Our Galactic Bodies?
Our Home Planets?
Time It cannot be
for Time is a Human Construct —
What then in Its Own Magic
raises Our Suns & Moons
guides Us through Our Days & Nights
allowing Us to Breathe?
I got up this morning with an additional line for “Black Against White” — what do you all think of it?
Thank you so much for reading —
Joanna
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:20pm
I opened My Kitchen Door
to the snow-laden deck
My Black Cat Astro sat
against the white
to think
— crossed the step —
I saw stars
on His Back
January 17 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:55pm
Imagine going to sleep
with the windows open
more than a crack
in the middle of January
letting in the swoosh of waves
no wind
only the recollection
of words to a little doctor
in 1993:
I feel so vulnerable,
I need a doctor who loves me —
I need to be taken care of
in more ways than one
in 2014
I thrive
in The Hawk Queen Bed
beside a giant doctor
who loves Me
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:11pm
I am dripping in Diamonds
oozing Gold from every pore
radiating Silver with My widest reach
My Words carry
My Weight
When I die
I will be entombed
with
My Endless Scrawl
at
My
Feet
Joanna Gilman Hyde 