Don’t Worry
Its My Birthday
and I’m going
OUT
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Its My Birthday
and I’m going
OUT
Eye have propositioned
My Estranged Husband
for sexual favours
under the table —
His refusal to accept
has left Me
rejected, neglected
alone
and punished.
A man wants a woman
to have orgasm(s)
because she loses control.
Men like women
to lose control.
It turns them on.
And if a man
makes a woman
have orgasm(s)
he feels empowered.
BTW: Woman do not really care
if a man has one or not.
EYE
DO
PRECISION
WORK
Don’t have sex
if you are fertile
and do not want to get pregnant —
If you do get pregnant
and you are afraid to have The Child
think of Him or Her
as Your Own Creation
Your Own Empowerment:
The Bond of Mother and Child
is Sacred
My Divorcing Husband
has allowed Me to become
The Social Outcast
Who walks My expansive beach alone
Who sleeps with
The Virginal Banana
Who reads Her Verse
dressed like a vamp
while He refuses to ask
“How did it go?”
Don’t ever marry a man
Who’s dumb
but
Oh Mum — how nice
it would be to
have My Neck
under His Thumb
Tonight Eye gathered up
with My Left Finger Tips
The Remains
of the disembarkation
of “Stratospheric Universe”
from the early grass
of My Front Yard.
Now it is My Front Yard.
The pieces are piled densely
in an old aluminium tray
ready to be picked through
and arranged, possibly haphazardly,
into a new form of Art
Eye call “Destructionism.”
Someday (soon) my reconstructed creation
will sell for thousands
of Canadian Dollars
and Eye will NOT BE DEAD
Cinderella was an artist
who cleaned out the kitty litter
every morning and every night.
She had no boyfriend
but got into trouble with the law
by texting her elderly estranged husband
for phone sex — text sex —
and stealing money from his wallet
to pay for it.
Her shoe size was 7 and a half.
For the whole time she poured out
a giant painting titled “American Bombshell”
on the floor of her basement
she dreamed of Prince Charming —
a lithe little leprechaun
the next town over
with whom she had shared
a magical moment
25 years earlier
and found she could love
no one else.
Cinderella would walk alone
the shores of her castle home
and converse sparingly with neighbours
who might have thought
she was a bit strange,
living by herself with 6 cats
in her high white house
litter-ally dripping with paint.
On one of her walks
she found a plastic Jack-o-lantern
and carried it all the way back
to put black glitter in its hollows
for eyes, nose and wild grin.
Cinderella had a Fairy Godmother
with jet black hair
who would wave her wand
of reason
and all of Cinderella’s fortitude
would emerge,
cajoled by her guardian’s
infectious laughter.
Her shoe size was 9.
Now at the end of April
there was to be a gala dance
to raise funds for the monolithic hospital
in the Western county over
but no one asked Cinderella for a date
so she decided
to just stay home
and paint another
cupboard door
with paint-shard applications
from her work titled:
“Stratospheric Universe”
blown apart
by a Christmas storm
to litter her yard
with slabs and chips
of hardened splashes
she could call her own.
Joanna Gilman Hyde 