The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:17pm
I Am A Woman
Who Writes Poetry
To Slice Its Way
INTO LIFE
My Tools Are Silver Swords
Forged From My Brain
Brandished Publically
To Zap
The Unaware
With Words
Of Flame
Engulfing
The Globe
&
Beyond
To The Molten Makings
Of The Stars
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:45am
Back in My Bed
on the pretence of not enough sleep
I lie in repose
and wonder the look
on The Face
of The Nameless, Faceless Doctor
Who scraped out My Dear .4
and what of it
in My Reclining Pose
had I demanded My Pieces
be saved —
saved in a jar of formaldehyde?
Highway 103, NS 2:22pm
Today I washed some dishes
left by My Daughter
in the house in Atlantic
My First Marital House
where My Third Child was conceived
and aborted on the anniversary
of My Mother’s Death
–
My Daughter is going to college
this weekend
My Son is out west
— I may see Him at Christmastime
and .4 — that’s what I call Him/Her —
is not in heaven
because I don’t believe in heaven
She/He is still with Me
My Body is My Heaven
The Hawk Portico 12:50pm
I got The Best License Plate Ever
picked out at random from a big drawer
by The Lady at The Motor Vehicles Registry —
It proclaims: FFU
& now My Temporary License
has been removed from the driver’s side
back window
after applications of nail polish remover
& oven cleaner
to get the stick-um off
I got it off
with My Own Spit
The Hawk Portico 5:15pm
One year out of art school
I rose to stellar fame
— or tried to —
when I painted the roof
of The World Trade Center
& fended off The Director’s
romantic advances
He’s dead now
so I’m free to write
that I did NOT sleep My Way
to the top
that MY TOP has not been reached
yet
But It’s Going To Be
In My Lifetime
even if I have to die first
The Hawk Portico 4:55pm
While putting on My Shorts
to sit out on My Hawk Portico
I had the Realization
that I write about Place
more-so than People —
that My Poetry describes the environment
I live in
& that if I lived anywhere else
how different would it be?
The Hawk Living Room 1:40pm
I made My Way through
New York City
going to bed with men
just because they took Me
out to dinner
–
I married for Nova Scotia
& for My Mother
then I lost Her
somewhere on The High Seas
& gained an insight
into something no one else could
sea
except — there always has to be
An Except —
One Little Man
Who unwittingly took My Heart
while My Second Husband
has My Twat
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?
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
Joanna Gilman Hyde 