by Joanna Gilman Hyde

Eliza’s Room 2:30pm

I live in a lavender room

where I have pulled up

the curtain against a backdrop

of rolling waves

and scrub spruce tree tops

above a painted chest

housing My Mother’s Childhood Diaries

I am sanctified

in My Daughter’s Room

where The Out-stretched Quilt

of rippling bands of purple

spreads  Itself beneath two walls

of My World Trade Center Rooftop Painting

titled Self Organizing Galaxy

and beneath My Signature

in three-foot-high letters

coloured Black