Joanna Gilman Hyde

Now is The Time To Write
a poem about Doing The Laundry —
an innately Feminine Occupation —
not just Historically, but Biologically:
Women, mostly, cannot tolerate
a mess, chaos —
Women must organize their households
caring for their families
fundamentally
or They won’t be right themselves —
They must pick up clothes
the most personal accoutrements
and wash them in cycles
choosing to abandon
a dryer
in favour of a clothes line
or maybe on a winter day
taking satisfaction
in hanging 2 loads
on a laundry rack
and Balcony Banister

Joanna Hyde
December 8^th 2011   10:34am

I held The Little Tin Box
holding an encasement of glass
loose in a tin framework
with silver filaments inside
& some kind of Praying Lady —
I kept staring at It

The Little Tin Box was set upon
by Me & set upon the top of a giant glass case
housing stuffed birds
& It, My Little Tin Shadow Box
was left behind
in one of those numerous houses named
The Laundry, The Pirates’ Lair, or Oliver Jenning’s
temporarily housing My Mother, My Brother & Me
while My Father was elsewhere

Today I got a Case
from The Framer here
in My Adulthood, A Shadow Box
holding My Advent Calender
made for My Grandparents
when I was a Teenager
in My Single Mother’s House

I have My Glass Shadow Box Now
with Its secret compartments
tipped back for partial view —
My Own Glass Shadow Box
is Here…

Yesterday I painted A Star
My Red Star
on the concrete wall
of My Husband’s unfinished Library —
He let Me do it and only
worried that His Books might smell
of spray paint
but They’re OK this morning —
This Morning when I thought:
“I’ll go down there to put
little knobs, globs of red
on the ends of The Star –”
but My Red Star is Not
a cutesy-poo Snowman Star
My Red Star Has No Endings

My Red Star gleams for People
like My Husband’s Daughter
Who’s had an “untimely” X Miss

My Red Star lasers Those in Grief
Who Miss & Miss & Miss

My Red Star glows for The Sick
& Dying
Who may not know Where
They are going or what
Their Pain might be telling Them

My Red Star sparkles for Children
Born & Unborn
Who must listen to Adults
Adults’ Tricks
&…

spray paint on painted concrete wall
By Joanna Hyde

Photograph by Hunter Blair

http://pointsthruprose.com/2011/12/26/the-hawk-basement/

I have bled like The Canadian Flag
I have had stars in My Eyes like The American
I justify The Sanctity of Human Life
starting (if there is A Start) with Conception
finishing (if there is A Finish) with Unprovoked Death
unprovoked by Human/Divine Intervention

Joanna Hyde
2009

today in a relentless wind
I mailed a Thank You to You
a woman with Black Hair
Black Eyes
& a Name almost the same
as Mine

You work inside
a psychiatric unit
trying to get people out
and while I was there
You made a Gesture of Insight
when I loudly declared
“I have An Announcement to make –”

from behind The Counter
where The Doctors sit
You slowly lowered
Your Right Arm
Your Gesture of Support
for Me to see
so I would lower My Voice
for The Black Doctor:
“I am The Black Jesus”

Joanna Hyde
December 20^th 2011   The Hawk   11:57 am

I Am The Silver Christ
Grey if You like
in This Time of Black & White
I represent The Reconciliation
of Opposites

I can Speak
if You Dare To Listen
I can Point
if You Dare To Open
Your Eyes
though I will not blind You
with My Brilliance —
I will fortify You
with Your Own

What Could We Accomplish
Out There
in Our Brave Wide World —
would You allow Me
to become a Child again —
with The Child’s brazen curiosity?

Could You, Would You
dress Me in Silver —
Dazzling Grey —
or shall I stay
in My Thick Grey Robe?

I’m sitting on My neutral sofa
with The Atlantic Ocean & Open Sky
both Grey Today
along My Right
& You, All of You —
to My Left

Joanna Hyde
New Year’s Day 2012   The Hawk

that Silver…
It needs the Light to change
from Grey into shiny Brilliancy.
The Sun meets the ocean
pointing to our eyes.

By Kristine Zoodedoo
Inspired by Position & titled by Joanna Hyde

The Desk is Replaced

by flattened tummy trim

black negligee hand-me-down

(from Mum)

reclining on Her Double Bed

knees up

She fingers Her Lap Top

on No Breakfast

Joanna Hyde
January 15^th 2012   The Hawk

I DON’T HAVE TO

I DON’T WANT TO

WRITE ABOUT MY MOTHER

ANY MORE —-

SHE PLAYED MY LIFE

LIKE IT WAS HER OWN

SHE MADE NOVA SCOTIA

FOR ME TO FOLLOW

TO FOLLOW HER

TO HER DEATH —-

AND 18 YEARS BEYOND

TO LIVE WITH THE SINGLE HOPE

OF “LOVE” WITH 2 HUSBANDS

I WASN’T LOOKING FOR —-

FOR DEDICATION TO ART

I WASN’T AIMING FOR

SHE TRIED TO MAKE ME

INTO HERSELF

& LOOK WHAT HAPPENED

I’VE BEEN ONLY HALF ALIVE

FOR HALF MY LIFE SO FAR

AND NOW I RECLAIM

MY TRUE SELF —- OH

it’s been hanging around

scared to pop out

BUT IMMA POPPIN’ NOW!

GOD DAMN IT!

I’VE HAD IT WITH MOTHAS

I’VE HAD IT WITH GOD FIGGAS —-

WHAT AM I NOW???!!!

YA WANNA KNOW?!

THAT’S FOR ME TA KNOW

& YOU TA FIND OUT —-

IF YOU DARE

By Joanna…