Tonight Eye Visited
The Guzzel*
once again
this time Filled to the brim
to the far edges of the laid out flats
more Full than Eye had ever seen It
and Eye stood to look
to take It all in
and thought of M(Eye) Husband
On M(Eye) way home
Eye heard The Rocks laugh
with The Tumbling Waves
and Eye wished He could
stand with Me
2 listen
*north end of The Hawk Beach
That’s Me —
caught between two worlds:
Our Earth with Its mutidudinous
religions —
and the Extraterrestrial Domain
of Our Heavens —
EYE do NOT believe in Hell,
or Mr. D’evil,
or Evil incarnate —
EYE do NOT believe in Sin,
though Eye carry Christ’s message
and EYE am a MEAT EATER,
solid disciplinarian
non-sports enthusiast
all-around artist
and purveyor of ULTRAVISION
If Eye had The Faith
I have now as a result of My Mother’s Death
I could have saved Her
I know I could —
She tried to visualize sheep
eating away Her Tumour
and I could not share Her Vision
until after She was gone
(but She’s not really “gone”)
when Eye saw that There IS a God
and that if You believe
ANYTHING REALLY IS POSSIBLE
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
Eye lie in our yellow light,
honest
on a couch of neutral delight
warm
in the fall of my meandering
through single-dom & persuasion
failed —
my marriage is not
salvageable —
may Eye rest
now
My !3! Children
R as strong & beautiful
as the flock of Herons
EYE just witnessed landing
on the heights of My Scrub Spruce
horizon
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.
In My Tidy House
The Word of God
lies stuck against the back
of My Broom Closet —
It, The Word, is in poster form
tucked away
for only Those Who
dare to clean
or to hang up an extra coat —
for My Closet
holds a rod
and Eye am The Grit —
the contaminant, the irritant
and layer by layer
Eye will come out
Gleaming
—- Eye have re-created The Holy Trinity:
God The Mother, Daughter and The Holy Ghost
Joanna Gilman Hyde 