–2– of M(Eye) Life Times
have gone by already:
@ 26 year intervals
w/ a 5 year hiatus
in between
when My Son was a little boy
and My First Marriage
was almost
idyllic
Tonight’s Dream presented
The Delightful Nun
of a child
with thick white hair
smiling hefty face
as She looked up at Me
to greet Me
with a small molasses cookie
She wanted to give Me
and I took it
and ate it
EYE used to Think
Dr Blair was a good lay
but NOT ANY MORE:
he — H-U-N-T-E-R
is dis-gusting
re-pulsive
and I cringe now
when I unwittingly picture
him on top of me
or w/ His Right Hand
up M(Eye) Crotch
Jimbo thought He could
wipe out insanity* or
at least die trying
* there is no such “thing” as “insanity”
EYE am in M(Eye) Element
again
in This Land of Comfort & Grace
with My Father’s Magic Bag warm
on My Stomach
and The One made by Becky Symonds
at My Feet.
My Pot of Decaf is waiting
downstairs
and Eye do not care
that I have no one
2 bring Me Coffee.
EYE said Your Name
in M(Eye) Mind
and so a purple heart appeared
Shiny like Mylar
outlined, not solid
and so a new association
between You
and delicacy
arrives
written March 22, 2019
Eye am merging w/ Him
day by day
night by night
in My Dreams
in My Sleep
and how much farther
do Eye have to go
before We come together
as The Emblem of God?
written March 19, 2019
My Daughter was 4 years old
when She first heard
The Voice of Dr. Blair
over My Mother’s answering machine
in The Master Bedroom of The Shakespeare House–
with sun hitting Her tossoled hair
She listened to the smoldering lilt
of whatever it was He was saying to Me
and She looked up, smiling shyly,
and got goog-elly eyes
written March 17, 2019
I was in a hospital hallway
hearing Peter crying out in pain
seeing Him on a hospital bed
lying on His Left Side
in a pool of pea soup coloured vomit
thin
and I went to Him
as His Former Wife
to hear Him say
Dr Wilson was leaving
because He hated Shelburne.
Then Peter was to be transferred
to another bed
and a nurse handed Me a bag
of His Vomit-soaked Clothing
and I wondered if it was My Responsibility
to wash It
written March 17, 2019
Yesterday morning at 6:00 am
I woke (late) to clean out My Closets
and went through all My Purses
from years ago
and there was My Dear Little Turquoise Satchel
shaped like a settled tear drop
pretty, but totally useless
from that era of Shelburne
whenever it was
whenever it was
when I walked around
and around
dressed in co-ordinated fabrics
supposedly raising a daughter
while my son visited for supper
once in a while
and I slept in My Childhood Bed
with a man I was barely married to
who kept me
on drugs
because I was in love with someone else
Joanna Gilman Hyde 