Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: artist

BARRINGTON PASSAGE 8:40pm

In a Barrington Passage car park

I listen to 90’s on 9

“That’s Me in The Corner

That’s Me in The Spot Light

Losing My Religion”

— I listen to 90’s on 9

to reclaim the decade

stolen by My Mother’s Brain Tumour —

is this another Dead Mother poem

or My Reclamation

of What I’m OWED?

Making up for months & months

of psychiatric hospitalizations

of years of being so depressed

I couldn’t take care of My Children

of writing a 364 page Manuscript

— The Encapsulation —

only to gleefully shred It

— every copy I possessed —

on a sunny June afternoon

fifteen years later?

 

THE SPIDER WEB

After I finished painting

Self Organizing Galaxy

at The Former World Trade Center

I wanted to suspend

a full-scale Spider Web

between The Twin Towers

I made a mock up out of brass wire

and hung it on a WTC model in an office show room

but Former Director Guy F. Tozzoli

wouldn’t let Me —

He said He would have to be The Spider

MOTHER’S DILEMMA

The Hawk Kitchen 10:22am

I see My Rings stacked

up on the tail

of a ceramic cat

poised at My Kitchen Sink:

My Big ? Ring

& My Wedding Rings

Hunter bought Me years ago

eyed by My Daughter

from Time To Time

— I know She would love an engagement ring

from Her Very Serious Boyfriend

& if She got one

would that assure Me

She would not be as promiscuous

as I was?

Would She be as happy

as She could be

& for how long?

With The World Waiting For Her

at such a young age

could She be

a Cape Island House Wife?

Though isn’t that what I am —

secure in My Maturity

happy in My Place?

THE WEST DESK WINDOW 10:15pm

Do My Bodily Cells Know

the acquaintance of My Husband’s?

The Cells all live separately

though We occupy The Same Room.

Do Our Cells Know Each Other’s Bodies?

We smell the same smells

& hear the same sounds —

though when My Husband has ringing in His Ears

do My Ears Know It?

FROM THE COUCH OF JOANNA

I would have broken Communion

with You with Your Name

on a maple-frosted cookie

on sale from No Frills

up in My Dark-creviced Bedroom

away from My Family —

I would have broken through

The Lie of Christmas symbolized

as The Literal Snow Job

fertility rite within the broken wreath — egg

with a lying elf responsible

for any materialistic answer

coming — ejaculating

down The Vagina Chimney

to lay out His Wares

at a triangular bush with stars

— The Heavens —

all over It

I would have broken through

The Myth of Our Making

with You

on a cookie

but I was

ashamed

VIEW FROM THE TOMATO-COLOURED COUCH 7:10pm

“I’m going into Barrington with Tyler”

“What for?”

“To watch The Fireworks at The Tree Lighting

— look what I’m wearing –“

“Let Me get My Glasses”

“My Burberry Scarf — don’t I look cute?

I look like a rich girlfriend

Who gets lots of nice

   things”

THE HAWK KITCHEN 4:15pm

I feel a momentary gladness

with a song I like on the radio

as I look out My Sliding Kitchen Doors

to The Full Clouds

illuminated by The Sun

in an opposite part of The Sky

GRASP

The West Desk Window 9:45am

I am experiencing Separation Anxiety

from The Selling

of My Mother’s Island House

She’s possessed for 50 Years —

in the cloak of The Shower

I cling all the harder

to The Little Man

while My Doctor/Husband

prescribes Ativan

STAR

The West Desk Window 8:45am

I have put My Daughter’s Name

above Her

on the wall @ The Head of Her Bed

The Name is Mine

in photographs of My Rooftop Painting

within Her Reach

THE WEST DESK WINDOW 4:55pm

We Don’t Need A Bed

Our Bodies Will Be Our Bed

We Don’t Need Our Bodies

Our Mind Minds

Will Slay Us