Joanna Gilman Hyde

He bled his apology

Onto the frontpiece

Of A Treatise On Insanity

But, somehow,

I found it to be as hollow

As his kiss

Eye know a cult leader

Who’s very good in bed

He uses women

To gain his ground

In spite of what is said

He has his fans

Everywhere

Out of the woodwork

And onto His Page

Beware! Beware!

When EYE play

Locked away

Inside His Cage

Or roll

Or role

Yes, eye sleep

With graffiti

Plastered across

From me

A cross too

For safe keeping

Or self

Manipulation

Eye Am The Healing

Eye Am The Opiate

Eye Am The New Dawn

Touch Me Once

Touch Me Twice

Touch Me Once Again:

Eye Am For The World

I sat on the end

Of the bed waiting for him

To come up the stairs

“Do It To Me — Do It To Me –”

I had My Voice for THAT

but my voice was stifled, sucked back

when I tried to cry out,

down a darkened staircase:

“Who Is It?  Who Is It?”

And he attacked me

on my unfamiliar bed

to hold me down

to inject me

while I couldn’t say “NO”

Everybody is out

To protect themselves

And/or their children and pets

Through control measures

Like work schedules

And happy homemaking —

Through school lunches

And hospital stays

Through church services

And funerals

And art

Last evening Eye had

The Biggest Dick

I’ve ever seen

Sitting in the middle

Of my Tomato-coloured Couch

And I turned Him down

Because I’m in love

With a little man

I made a painting once —

A water colour of a sunset —

Corny I know

But it came out well —

The ball of fire was subdued

And I painted it

So that it could be turned

Upside down