My House Is For Sale
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
My house is for sale
and everything it contains
every scrap of art created by my children
every archived piece of juvenalia
from my self and my brother
every file box of family letters
every binder of plastic sheeted cards
my art, my art
spread along every wall
housed in my once-loved studio
it all has to go.
My painted doll dresser
made by my grandparents
Eye emptied out yesterday
ready to sell
and the cats, the cats
will have to find a new place
except for Astro
my biggest blackest cat
Joanna Gilman Hyde 
Joanna, sorry I’m so far behind reading your poetry. (Have been ill….) As always, these are exquisitely honest, melancholy, and multilayered – and this most recent one really resonates with me. Thank you for sharing your beautiful work with us.
Thank you Betty. Am going through a very difficult time and your comment is uplifting for me.
Joanna, I wish there was something I could do or say to help. From your poem it sounds very difficult indeed (and I can relate to a certain extent). Sending you a hug — please take good care. 💕
Thank you Betty. Wish we could meet someday. Where do you live?
That’d be fun if we could meet someday, Joanna — but alas, I’m 3000 miles away, in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps someday our paths will cross.
Im considering moving to Haida Gwaii to be with my kids
I had to look that up – looks like a beautiful spot! (Have been to B.C. many times but never that far north.) Let me know if that pans out.