Joanna Gilman Hyde

November 8th, 2025

The Hawk Utility Room

5:25 am

Yesterday Eye attended

The Funeral of A Mother

Eye had never met

& listened to the proper bravery

of One Son (Eye had never met)

standing at The Podium

where “The Old Rugged Cross”

was sung out

by The Forthright Voice

of The Man Eye know only

as Our No Frills Produce Manager —

an Officiating Gentleman

spoke of None of Us

being free from SIN

& had Us pray

for The Mother’s Commital.

The Coffin was black

w/ hammered silvery adornments

enthroned by a floral spread of blue & white —

She had Died At Home

as was Her Wish.

Outside, beside the hearse

Her Other Son, My Neighbour

kindly commanded Me

to give Him a “squeeze”

(a bear hug for He is big & bearded)

& Eye could not even ask Him

if He had found My Card

placed on a windshield

(as soon as Eye found out) —

Eye could not utter a single word

while He pronounced

w/ Me in His Arms:

“I hope You are well —

I really do…”

*There loped A Dog of White in the parking lot of milling mourners, the sight of which inspired this poem.