He slammed The Book
on me
in the twilight of His Room
lit by one tranquillity candle
in blue-scented quiet
His Slam rang out
right next to me
Dear Jimbo:
Are you ever going to return my phone calls?
Are you still praying for me?
Well you don’t have to any more.
No thanks to you
and your drugs
and your illegal hospitalizations
Eye am back to making art
as proficiently as I was in art school
and you’ll never see it.
Sincerely
Your former “patient”
Joanna
Hey WHB — how come
you didn’t defend me
that time Eye was demonstrating
with a bread knife saying
“Eye could prove a point with this”
BECAUSE THERE WAS NO POINT —
why didn’t you tell Eliza
Eye was being your favourite type
of humour: “ironic”
instead you called the Mounties on me
and had me hauled away in an ambulance
to the psych ward —
how come you never defended me?
My first marriage
saw an array
of hand-knit sweaters
from My Beloved Mother-in-law
Peter’s Mother
Who clothed Me in fuzzy lavender
bold black and white and red
thalo green with purple grapes
and close-fitting short-sleeved
peachy butterflies
Today in Roseway Manor
Eye gave Eva cream for Her Hands
and She clasped Them together
happily
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
I Am
My Own Bed Partner:
Me, My Self & Eye
Shall I have a Menage a Trois
after marrying twice?
First for Mother & Children
Second for Sex & Money
I Am
Single now with a refrain
“At night, alone, I marry the bed*”
*from The Ballad of The Lonely Masturbator by Anne Sexton 1969
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
Joanna Gilman Hyde 