Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Category: Uncategorized

I’VE GOT THE POWER

The Hawk Living Room 6:50pm

My Shredded Manuscript has been found —

not the shreds, which were dumped

at the side of the road

in three clear garbage bags

two years ago —

but a surviving copy

in Vermont

in an old farm house

belonging to My Stepmother

Who shared in My Happiness today

when I called Her

& She asked, ” Have You heard

The Good News?”

My suicidal activity

has been undone

& I don’t have to DO anything

with The Resurrection

like re-write It

into an epic poem

I can merely bask

in Its discovery

& know that It’s safe

driven by Eliza & Her Boyfriend

home by Saturday

MY BOOK NAMED “SAM”

The Hawk Deck 10:45am

Two years ago I spent

an entire afternoon

shredding five copies of a 364-page manuscript

I wrote after My Mother died

I set up the shredder from My Husband’s office

and opened the first of five bottles of beer

In those next seven hours

There went all the sections, chapters

ten pages at a time

with the shredder quitting every twenty minutes —

There went the first chapter

of My Tragic Brother overlapping

My Mother’s diagnosis

October 2, 1991

of a malignant brain tumour —

There went the chapters on living

with Her Illness and Decline

There went the chapter on The Death

March 27, 1993

There went the chapter on The Cremation

with The Chickadee’s Visit

There went Me

on no sleep

for four days — There went

The Shower of Silver Lights

on March 31st, 1993

There went The Little Doctor

calling Me a “Seer” on April Fool’s Day —

There went The First Depression

There went The Magical Moment

October 22, 1993 with The Little Doctor

There went The Telepathic Message

with Him :  Dr David Hamilton Wilson

There went My Second Pregnancy —

The Baby Girl I Dreamt Up —

infant I breast fed until She was two*

There went the section on writing the book

and getting literally lost in My Work

on a rented computer

There went subsequent depressions

Dreams of The Little Doctor

There went forever, maybe,

the description of My Childhood Parrot “Sam”

whose faulty clipping job I attempted

at My age of eleven which left him

unable to fly in My Bedroom

(which for some reason I didn’t want Him to do)

but left Him able only to veer off in sickly circles

until I had to give Him up to another little girl

when He became a problem at the Canadian/US border

at each summer crossing

Finally there went the last line of the book

which I will always have, written in June of 1996

as a married woman:

“The Bird In My Hand Is Worth Two In My Bush”

*Daughter Eliza now looking for possible surviving copy

2:00pm — Daughter Eliza FOUND IT in My Stepmother’s farmhouse in Vermont

NOTE TO JIMBO

The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:30pm

If My Old Down-trodden Psychiatrist

could see Me now

cooking chicken & rice

writing 7 or 8 poems a day

loving My Husband

& My Cats

shopping & going to the hairdresser

What Would He Think?

Was/Is She Mad?

How has She Come This Far

& better yet —

Where Is She Going?

REMNANTS

The Hawk Portico 5:46pm

I hear The Chickadee

& an outboard motor

& think of My Mother

My Mother traversing the waves

to get out to Mc Nutt Island

A Place I swore never

to forget

yet It has caused Me pain

& grief when She died

but I own Her house no longer

merely some land

which My Children

are destined

to inherit

LAP DOGS

The Hawk Portico 4:50pm

I’ve learned to latch onto Disappointments

with all the tenacity of a wild-haired dog

— then I beat Them up

with all The Greatness of My Life

& think of these let-downs as transient

substituted by going to The Hairdresser

now

instead of The Therapist

NEW TREND

The Hawk Deck 2:22pm

The Crumpled Up Napkin

hovering over My Husband’s Dark Lunch Plate

set with galactic crumbs

looked to Me like God

on His Cloud

allowing Me to decide

to get My Hair done

once a week

LIFE OVERHEAD

The Hawk Deck 11:22am

Looking up through My Sunglasses

I see Magical Bulbous Wisps

of White

lacing across The Immediate Sky

moving like Tentacles of Mist

to The North

where They fade

into Grey Slivers

of Silver

WARM SILVER

The Hawk Deck 10:40pm

Dressed in My Warm Silver Robe

I have drunk the repletion

of My Life’s Waters so far

I am out on My Deck

on a windless morning

sun ablaze

I am in a haze

of happy Self

Note:  written

while My Daughter happens to be

hunting

in Vermont

for one possible surviving copy

of My 364 page

Manuscript

ONE SOUND

The Hawk Deck 10:12am

How can One Sound

conjure up A Place

and A Time?

— It’s The Call Of The Jay

that does It for Me

That Authoritative Squawk

harkens back to My Childhood

growing up in The Woods

of Rockland County

where I was a bossy child neighbour

and control freak

to My Brother

NO KILL POLICY

The Hawk Deck 9:51am

I don’t kill Flies any-more —

if One’s in The House bugging Me

 I try to catch It against a window

in The Palm of My Hand

I feel It beating against

My Fingers

until I let It go

outside