Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Category: abuse

Open Letter to Dr James Chandler

Dear Jimbo:

Are you ever going to return my phone calls?

Are you still praying for me?

Well you don’t have to any more.

No thanks to you

and your drugs

and your illegal hospitalizations

Eye am back to making art

as proficiently as I was in art school

and you’ll never see it.

Sincerely

Your former “patient”

Joanna

Re-shifted

Hey WHB — how come

you didn’t defend me

that time Eye was demonstrating

with a bread knife saying

“Eye could prove a point with this”

BECAUSE THERE WAS NO POINT —

why didn’t you tell Eliza

Eye was being your favourite type

of humour: “ironic”

instead you called the Mounties on me

and had me hauled away in an ambulance

to the psych ward —

how come you never defended me?

Attention!!

My soon-to-be-X

recently messaged

My Daughter Eliza

that he would like to see Me

“left twisting in the wind –”

well there’s a storm tonight

and Eye am here by My Self

cozy in My Bed

with The Power still on

Behind The Scenes

Eye have been to bed

with My Dark Haired

sex kitten

who hides in Her Covers

comfortable, finally

showing me Her Clothes

sewed bye Her Careful Grandmother:

prom dresses in satin,

day dresses in pink knobbly knit

and her mother’s fall gown

of poppy floral design

photographed for a first wedding

to the first husband — father

of my hide-away friend

who has never been

a bride

Grief

My !3! Children

R as strong & beautiful

as the flock of Herons

EYE just witnessed landing

on the heights of My Scrub Spruce

horizon

Howard Talbot Walden Hyde

Today would have been

My Brother’s 56th birthday —

he died at 45

innocent on a jail house floor —

My Beautiful Brother

conceived in Gabon

when Our Mother was ill

He was born during The Cuban Missile Crisis

and took that to Heart —

It coloured His outlook

of fear

though He was brave at six

when I threw His shiny red fire truck

down the cellar stairs —

He was brave at eleven

when I pushed Him off

the bow of Our Mother’s Molly

and He was brave at seventeen

when I told Him “No”

after he asked, “Don’t you love Me?”

 

He played the clarinet & saxophone

and made up stories about two clowns

named Jane Rane and Rank Raunk

while I pretended in a baby voice

He was “Uncle Howie”

and We played “Mail”

under the bathroom door

 

He followed Me like a shadow

jealous when I first married —

Our Mother had Howard give Me away

 

He built Me up with His Devotion

all the times I was ill after Our Mother died

and I slammed Him down

into the ground of Pine Grove Cemetary

in Shelburne, Nova Scotia

wailing on Our Father’s Shoulder

 

Note:  The ghost of My Dear Brother haunts a part of My House — My Second Husband’s former Library where I installed a memorial to Howard with a painting of poppies the heavy frame of which warped the day I hung it there.

Off To A Bad Start

On My First Outing

with Dr Blair, after

showing him My Aquarium Mural

on the ceiling of the IWK* burn unit —

and going to Tim Horton’s —

Eye lay on the grass

of a Halifax park

to look into His Eyes of Blue:

“Do you think I am

The Second Coming of Christ?”

Eye hesitantly asked —

“No,” he said

“You’re a cheap date.”

*Isaac Walton Killam Children’s Hospital

 

“The World Is My Oyster”

and Eye am The Grit —

the contaminant, the irritant

and layer by layer

Eye will come out

Gleaming

AS IT STANDS

Eye hear the waves

from across The Guzzle

where rising

My Husband resides.

Eye will not be pushed around

by Him

or anyone else.

My presence

is

remarkable.

The Art of Sexual Frustration

Eye have a Doctor

in My Bed

and nice to Me

He is not —

He sleeps & sleeps

upon His Head

which I could grab —

is He Hot?