Joanna Gilman Hyde

In the course of the setting sun

Eye have gone from

A bare-legged, sun-glassed

Object

In my un-shaded living room window

To the lone light

In an upper storey

Turret

On the cover

Of an old Victorian novel

He said It was like eating

Ice cream —

Too much and you wouldn’t

Like It anymore.

He said It up in his parents’

Green Room —

Last night I saw Big

Dipper in the Northwest Sky —

This morning it tipped