Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Category: childhood

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?

Remembrance

Eye am My Father’s Daughter

an early riser

non-committer

Eye am My Mother’s Daughter

alone on an island

but not with sheep

It’s windy out

but I am snug

with My giant Mug of Decaf

writing for Dr Blair —

or is that Hunter

this time?

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.

October First

across the flagstone driveway

where Eye would find Fool’s Gold

My Father’s Father Bobby Hyde

constructed a stone play house

to match the stone dwelling He built by hand

named “The House In The Woods”

Remember:  The Play House

was only high enough

for children

and My Mother tole painted the cupboards

on either side of The Children’s Fireplace —

My Parents had a birthday party for Me

there, seated at the table and kids’ benches

built by My Mother’s Father

which She painted too in rich blue

with daisies to match Her Cupboards

“The World Is My Oyster”

and Eye am The Grit —

the contaminant, the irritant

and layer by layer

Eye will come out

Gleaming

Control & Surrender

When Eye was a child

I decided The Bathroom

was My Favorite Room —

that if the house blew apart

in a hurricane

It was The Bathroom

Eye would live in —

& I would sleep in the tub

ART

My Work, My Fun

is conglomerated

packed inside

My House

like baby tiny spiders

hatching out

to live their fragile lives

in amongst the nooks

of My Exterior

INSPIRATION

Eye will paint

The Sea Foam White

inlaid with shards of shells

collected

with infant fingers

from My First Beach

in Africa