Eye have been content
up in M(eye) Corner Room overlooking
The Atlantic, watching the weather
w/ the cats —
it was sunny minutes ago
but now a snow squall has moved in
I’ll go make some tea
“Astro, who was that man?”
Who was that man I met in the library
in Meteghan?
That man who took me
to Sip Cafe
and held my hand
saying he was 500 years old?
He smelled of wood smoke
like my son
and kissed my hairband
when I asked if he was married.
“Astro, who was that man?”
Who took me to Halifax
for Valentine’s Day
to eat chicken Spanakopita
to contemplate skating
when we said we were from Digby
incognito
I in my long white fake fur coat
and long red sparkly scarf
elaborate
he in his black Columbia
worn for the first time
a daughter’s gift
“Astro, who was that man?”
Who read my essay on Jealousy
and brushed my hair
and looked at me with reverence?
We walked the beach
when we got home
bundled up
and I darned his sock
and fixed the snags
in his Irish dark blue sweater
the colour of his eyes.
“Astro, who was he?”
Eye sit beside a cold grey sea
anchored by my cup of tea
Alone I am — but eye don’t care
for now my life is free
My brother never saw
the house I’m living in,
neither did my mother.
They both died
too early in my life
when I was with another
set of circumstance
calling me to strife —
First the father of my 3
rejected for the other
husband whom I no longer have
rejected for a lover
in my mind and in my heart
but he is gone through time
why bother to count those years
now my life is mine.
Instead of waking
to my former husband’s kissable head
I looked to a sky of gold and pink
and to the spruce of our first snow
this winter, and I reached
for my phone
to review the end
of Self Organizing Galaxy —
my painting of blue and purple
yellow and red
I watched my face
of 23 years
then got out of bed
to wash it now
and brush my hair —
my cat wants to be fed
Eye have a soldier in my pocket
on a secret mission to my heart
he thinks he’s “met” me
on a dating site —
we text and text
while we’re apart.
His eyes I like
His smile true
His photo’s got me caught —
He’s from the South
with a mother dead
His story I’ve completely bought
Eye am comforted
by my dreams:
one of my blue-eyed daughter
baby toddler
asleep in my arms
as I sat
and one of my long-dead Dad
cradling me
in his big lap
Eye am alone
with my art —
shall it be Lurid Green
and Pristine Red
or the suptle metallic golds
and coppers
with Silver
emerging from the mass
of disposed can lids?
Eye stood on My Deck
to salute the first sun
of Our New Year
Eye am single now
alone with five cats
but there are some advantages
to this state
Hmmm let me think of one…
In the stillness Eye write
standing on my deck
with opaque sun
and distant waves
closer
to the dappled bird calls
heralding this new morning
Joanna Gilman Hyde 