Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Month: July, 2016

THE TRANSPARENCY OF FLAMING JUNE

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:26pm

My Computerized-tinted Pallette

for The Inspiration

of Flaming June’s Dress

is made up of flaming orange “Zambia”

darker “Darling”

yellow “Evening Star”

“Wild Flower Bouquet” — pink

“Liliana” — aqua marine

sample can of “Hyper”

and down in the cellar

“Banana Daiquiri” from Our En-suite Bath

“Sea Spa” — never-used trim colour

and an old gallon of white semi-gloss

if My Transparency is not

see-through enough

A SAD LITTLE POEM

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:15pm

I think I fatally injured

an innocent spider

down in the cellar

cleaning out the kitty box —

did I sweep Him too hard

with the broom?

I think I may have stepped on Him

as He crumpled up and then lay flat

moving only briefly

before I put Him in My Palm

and emptied Him

into the trash

STOLEN HEART

The Hawk Deck 12:43pm

I had a robbery

of My Family’s Happiness

sitting in a Jacuzzi

in Toronto

with Eliza running around

the edge —

I had a robbery

of My Love for My Husband

My Handsome Capable Carpenter —

The Father of My 2.4 Children

I had a robbery

of My Son’s Happy Childhood

when I told Him at age eleven

His Parents were separating

I had a robbery

of My First Marriage

by a skinny little doctor

who called Me a “seer”

on April Fool’s Day

the morning after

My Sacred Shower Of Silver Lights

which NOBODY

will ever

STEAL

WEEK 5

The Hawk Outpost 10:03am

I have to look at The Ocean

differently now —

I can not see

My Future of sexual bliss

in Its glitter

Its beauty is of The Past —

of The Shower of Silver Lights

where no man

but God

was present

LETTER TO MY DEAR READERS

The Hawk TV Room:

Since writing the poem “No Ativan”  I have had to take it for severe sleep deprivation following the too hasty removal of a tranquillizer named Clonazepam which I had been taking to fend off the withdrawal effects of quitting the drug My Husband is now calling “Evil” — Olanzapine.  Along with coming to terms that not only was Olanzapine making me psychotic for eighteen years, the drugs I was taking after my mother died in 1993 were also making me psychotic and resulted in a twenty-three year romantic fixation on another doctor — the realization of this has just come to me today.  What I thought was true love in my mind, based on a “telepathic message” and a “magical moment” with this particular man, was nothing more than my mind’s own trickery due to anti-depressants  I was taking at the time and which induced a manic episode I wrote about and held to my heart for all these years.  I am no longer doing this.  It is a great relief.

Joanna

NO ATIVAN

The Hawk Queen Bed 12:55am

The Rooster and The Cow Bird

seem far away

and I am in the hard core

of My Sleep Restoration —

I have slept tonight

unaided

yet I have woken

to sweaty pyjamas

a cat washing Her Self

on My Head

and an urge

to get up

and write

of My Victory

MY HUSBAND IS ROWING

The Hawk Beach 7:40pm

I’ve made it to The Guzzle

on one night of less than solid sleep

but adequate

for a first day out

with My Ex Cousin-in-law —

a loose black dog came up behind

as I began My Beach Walk

and for the first time

I was not

terrified

ASIDE FROM MY PERFECT PREGNANCY IN 1994

The Hawk Deck 4:04pm

Since that first spring of 1993

with a ten-minute diagnosis of schizophrenia

crowning My Head after My Mother’s Death

and a summer’s hospitalisation for depression

when a psychiatric nurse tried to assure Me

“There will be other summers” —

how could She have known

there wouldn’t be a straight one

until now, twenty-three years later,

when My Second Husband

allows Me to throw

My Bed-thrashing Knees

across His Hip

in the dead of night

and reads My Extensive Medical Records

on His Lunch Break

to find out what happened?

NOTICE TO MY READERS

The Hawk TV Room 8:46am

I have added one line to “Just How Bad Was I?”  Since I have been off the anti-psychotic medication Olanzapine for one month, and over the devastating effects of drug-induced psychosis which I had unknowingly been under for the duration of My “psychiatric history” of twenty-three years — I have only the beginnings of realization as to how much this has not only affected my life, but my writing and art.  I have sincere appreciation for your readership.

Thank you,

Joanna

DOWN BY THE GUZZLE

The Hawk Beach 2:57pm

My Father never had Me

or when He did

He pimped Me off

or felt the need

to collect Me from sleepless

hotel rooms —

His Best Hope for Me

(My Brother He had given up on)

was to say,

“You are in ‘Recovery'”

Well — if He could see Me NOW

down by The Guzzle

in The South Wind of July

sitting in The Sand of My Achievement

He might come down from Heaven

or where ever He ended up

and shake My Hand

and send Me on My Way