The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:53pm
She sits in aqua-coloured jeans
sandals tucked underneath —
She holds Her Onyx Pen
to write Her Self Out —
holds Her Onyx & Silver Pen
with an amethyst-ringed Right Hand —
She must write Her Self Out —
She has The Glare Of Silver
Streaks around Her
She has spoken, speaks
for nearly 22 years
of Her Conviction
That She Is Human
AND She Is God
She Must Write Out
She Is God
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:00pm
I have painted
giant canvases
spread My Self across
the geography of Canada
written volumes of poetry
married twice
to capable men
carried My 2.4 Children
I live now in a house
of My Own Choosing
I am The Artist In Residence
in painted-on jeans
with tea steeping
in My Kitchen
The Hawk Kitchen 11:22am
I don’t have to write
about My Very Old Depression
I don’t have to go on
The Rowing Machine
unless I want to
I can sit in My Grandmother’s Kitchen Chair
& drink tea in My Bathrobe:
I AM LIVING
THE CLEAN SLATE
OF MY LIFE
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:30pm
Years ago long-haired Eve
offered a red apple
to Her Skinny Boyfriend
& The World Of Christianity Was Born
(or was It?)
Today We have a bunch
of ripe bananas
offered by Sheepish Boyfriends
to unsuspecting Girls
everywhere
& So We Have
The Second Coming
The Hawk Outpost 8:24am
I feel I am running out of time
to write of My Silver Sky
can You hear the desperation
in My Voice?
It lies before Me
but The Clouds
are shifting
& The Light on the ocean
has diminished
to one Silver Streak
The Hawk Outpost 5:40pm
The Swath of Blue is back
with The Lower Sun
against The Scrub Spruce
between Me and The Ocean —
I have one knee propped
to write out My Exclamation
of an evening in early fall
with steaks under sauce
ready to be broiled
& My Life Glass
ready to be refilled
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:25pm
I had a suburban upbringing
counteracted by summers
on a Wild Island
off the coast of Nova Scotia
I was a Nyack Public School Student
with paper route and good grades —
on The Island
I wore no clothes
and turned My White Bread Ass
Honey Brown
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:55pm
I cannot lay My Self down
upon My Tomato-coloured Couch
I cannot —
I must sit here & write
& let the Ativan do its trick
I will drink My Tea
& not think of the years
of wasting away in beds
on couches, brown, green
& white
The Hawk Outpost 9:10am
I Blink In All The Brilliant Light
Until My Lashes Gleam
Iridescence Calls Me In
Converging All I’ve Seen
Thank you for “liking”
MUNCHING ON EXISTENCE
This is to inform you
that I have since
made a single word change
in the poem
to clarify my point
Your friend,
Joanna
Joanna Gilman Hyde 