Would Eye like
a Younger Man?
Someone from My Children’s Generation
or does age really matter?
Last night I dreampt
of a dark-haired, bright-eyed gentleman
who held My Hand in an open carriage
and kissed the back of it
each time He said something
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?
My soon-to-be-X
recently messaged
My Daughter Eliza
that he would like to see Me
“left twisting in the wind –”
well there’s a storm tonight
and Eye am here by My Self
cozy in My Bed
with The Power still on
Eye am rich
beyond compare
with the view
of last night’s
Dawning,
Mauve, and pale
pale blue, and
golden embers of
new light*
*topped by the crescent moon
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
Eye have found
The Greatest Find —
on the back passenger floor
of My Brand Spanking New Jeep —
Oh Happy Day!!
Eye could kiss The Sky!!
I can see The Curve
of Our Earth
carried over The Eastern Horizon
by My Layer of Cloud Bank
not parallel
but dipping
@ either end
I have lost My Pen —
The Timeless Onyx and Silver —
My Power, My Tool
Favoured, cared for
years upon years —
I saved every used cartridge —
both boxes worn through —
how can I transform the loss
the misplacement —
into gain?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 